Guinevere
by Therightshadeofblue
Summary: Harry meets and becomes entangled with a woman who matches him in strength, intellect, and stubbornness. But the key to a good relationship as a Kingsman is, indeed, not duplicity. Set Pre-Kingsman: The Secret Service. Harry Hart/OC
1. Chapter 1: Grace Kelly

Guinevere, of the Royal Court of Arthur

* * *

Harry Hart. His name was Harry Hart. Code name, Galahad. He was one of the Kingsman's most valuable agents and since its inception, the most accomplished. And here he was sitting half naked in front of a woman he'd be searching months for, tirelessly, in a five star hotel room in Milan. He refused to be belittled, yet he did whatever she said. Not because she had any control over his mind or body, respectively. If Harry was dishonest he'd remind himself it was because it was the most logical way to gain her trust. But if Harry was completely honest with himself, it was because he found her simply impossible to oppose.

* * *

 **Berlin, Germany  
** **1999**

 _"Galahad I have eyes on the package, it's on the second floor. Go down the hall take a left then a right, there you will find a stairwell."_

"Copy, Merlin." Harry cautiously stepped through the vacant building, trying to avoid detection. He was wearing his navy blue pinstripe, a current favorite of his. He slowly made his way up the stairs, his Oxfords hardly making a click. "Alright Merlin I'm on the second floor. No sign of civilians."

 _"Good, now go down the hall and there should be a door on your right—go through that and it'll lead you to a big red door do you see it?"_

"Yes. I can hear voices behind."

 _"Very well you should. There are six men behind that door protecting the package we're after. Enter, engage, and secure."_

"Stealth entry or barbarian?"

 _"Your call, Galahad."_ Harry smirked, breathing in and stepping back. He shot the lock on the door and kicked it open valiantly, waiting for a fight. But he quickly noticed six unconscious, or possibly dead men littering the floor, an empty metal table set askew in the middle of the room.

"Merlin—" Suddenly someone rammed the door against him, knocking him back.

 _"Galahad, what's the issue?"_ Harry pushed the door back and saw what he suspected was the cause of all these men's misfortunes. A small person clad in a tweed gray suit, a red bandana over their mouth and nose, with a gun pointed at his head. A small person, holding their package. It wasn't until this person had Harry on the floor that he realized it was a woman, he could tell by her eyes. _"Galahad, what's going on?"_

The woman laughed and punched him in the face, knocking his glasses off. Harry quickly jumped up and pushed her against the wall. She groaned but quickly recovered and hit him the jaw with retractable baton. She jumped up on his shoulders and held the baton with two hands, holding the pressure and weight of her entire body on his windpipe, choking him. Harry struggled against her and eventually pushed her against the wall. And again, and again until she let up the pressure just slightly and he yanked her over his head and threw her across the room. But she somersaulted to a stand and pushed him against the wall and kicked him swiftly between the legs, a blow he was not expecting. And for good measure she punched him square in the jaw once more and he fell to ground in blinding pain. The woman smirked, watching him fall. She knelt down and pulled her bandana from her face, revealing a small nose and a sweet smile.

Unexpectedly she touched his cheek and bore a look of slight regret. But Harry was flabbergast with pain and confusion upon seeing her full face.

"It's always the handsome ones that give the most fight." She said sadly to herself and promptly left the room.

 _"Galahad! Galahad can you hear me?"_ Harry groaned, reaching painfully toward his glasses that were strewn from his face moments, seconds, before. He struggled but eventually slipped them on. _"Galahad, did you secure the package?"_

"Merlin—" His voice was hoarse and it hurt for him to speak, but he coughed a few times and breathed out to calm himself. "The package was stolen. Someone got here just before I did."

 _"Who? Galahad, did you see who it was?"_

"Merlin call me James Stewart because I think I just got out-matched by Grace Kelly."

 _"Grace Kelly, the Princess of Monaco?"_ Harry suddenly laughed, he must be crazy, but that was who he saw. A woman that looked exactly like Grace Kelly.


	2. Chapter 2: Violence, elegance, stamina

**London, England  
** **The next day.**

Harry sat pensively in the dining room of the Kingsman shop, waiting for Arthur to make his appearance. He was at odds with himself. Never before had he been beaten so easily and so quickly in the midst of a simple recon and retrieve mission. He just could hear Arthur say it, _"How could you have let the package get away so easily, and by a girl no less? You are a Kings_ man, _not a Kingsboy."_

He sighed, drowning himself in his third glass of brandy. Arthur entered the room quietly, an equally contemplatively look upon his brow. He silently sat down at the end of the table next to Harry and sighed, pouring himself a glass of brandy.

"Well…what are you going to do to fix this?" Harry internally sighed with relief. At least he wouldn't receive the ridicule he expected.

"I'm going to find the woman who intercepted the package and return the diamond back to the Queen's treasury like the original plan."

"You have a week before we should expect that diamond to end up on the black market." Arthur said simply, curtly. And left the room.

Harry stood and hastily made his way back to the base.

* * *

"Caucasian, blond hair, short, just above the shoulders, a slight curl at the ends. Dark blue eyes, with a fleck of green in the left iris. She was 160 centimeters, roughly 50 kilograms—athletic build. And I think her ears were pierced." Harry stared intently at Merlin as he typed everything out.

"Any markings, tattoos, scars, or otherwise?" Harry sighed, trying to remember. But he could not. He could really only remember her face.

"She did say something but I was so out of it I can't remember the accent…she looked European. But that's merely speculative."

"Right. Well I'll try my best with FBI and MI6 most wanted, might come up with something. For now try to remember what she said; country of origin is of upmost importance in tracking her down." Merlin said, typing away at his computer.

Harry sighed, feeling utterly useless. And exhausted. He needed some sleep. And maybe if he slept he could remember what she sounded like, just maybe.

* * *

Harry made himself a large cup of tea and indulged himself in a short, but restful nights sleep. He awoke rested and enlightened. He remembered what she had whispered. She called him handsome. But more importantly she called him handsome in an American accent. And suddenly he remembered her hand, that touched his cheek ever so gently. It was soft, and caring. Harry felt like the woman hand done so out of impulse, perhaps regret. But maybe she didn't, as she had just perviously kicked the living daylights out of him.

Harry grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down. _"It's always the handsome ones that give the most fight."_ And beneath that _"American, soft hands."_ And he began to attempt a sketch of her, but in the end it just ended up looking like the former Princess of Monaco, Grace Kelly. Harry had thought himself crazy and delusional with pain when he thought he saw Grace Kelly but by god that's all he could remember of her.

Suddenly Harry's phone went off, calling him to base immediately.

…

Harry rushed through the halls looking for Merlin. When he reached his office he found Merlin with mounds of paper around him and his computer screens.

"Harry!" He said excitedly, "I have great news."

"What is it?"

Merlin clicked through a few screens and pulled up a collection of data on a spreadsheet.

"Last night I found traces of an online ad for a contact collector, five hundred thousand pounds for one black Queen's diamond. Posted one week ago and was taken down just two days ago when you met Grace Kelly in Berlin. I retraced the IP address to a city block in none other than Queens, New York City."

"She's American." Harry smirked. "I'll leave for New York in ten."

"Best of luck, I'll be here every step of the way." They nodded in farewell.

* * *

 **New York City, USA  
** **The next morning.**

Harry had been to New York City three times in his life. The first time was when he was a child and he went on vacation with his family. He did not remember the trip too well, only his mother griping about Americans and their supposed entitlements. The second time was when he had just graduated from University, he and a couple friends decided to go on what you would call a "bender," and for obvious reasons he also did not remember too much of his second trip to New York City. And his third trip, currently, wasn't living up to the hype. Full of Americans, traffic, loud noises, unfortunate smells—which he supposed then and there that was probably the full package of the great Big Apple. Much to his disappointment.

He walked down a street in Queens, following the navigation Merlin programed into his glasses. It saved him from focusing too much on his environment.

 _"Next turn and you'll be in front of the building."_

"Got it." Harry turned the corner and saw the building. It was old, made of limestone and brick, and 14 floors high. Harry assessed the environment and walked across the street. "There's a cafe right across the street, I'll be able to survey easily from that vantage."

 _"Notify me when you've identified our suspect."_

"If." Harry corrected to himself. He sighed and ordered an espresso and a water and waited at a table outside. To any passerby he would look like a business man enjoying the nice spring weather. Hardly out of the ordinary.

Thirty minutes passed and nothing. Not even a single person came to or from that apartment building, which was odd considering how many units it held. Very odd.

Suddenly the lobby door opened and a woman walked out.

"Merlin." Harry spoke, hopefully catching his attention back to Harry's camera feed. He tapped his lens and it zoomed into the woman. "Merlin it's her." Her hair was up in a neat bun, she wore nothing but black with a tan wool overcoat and nude colored heels. Elegant.

 _"Galahad my feed is displaying interference, are you by any radio towers?"_

"Merlin I'm in bloody New York City, of course I'm by a radio tower." Harry stood slowly and watched the woman across the street, inserting a manila envelope into her inner coat pocket. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses and began to walk down the road. "Merlin, I'm pursuing."

 _"Pursue with caution Galahad, I'm completely blind here."_

"Noted." Harry jogged across the street and began to follow the woman at a pace that matched her own. He noticed she was walking exceptionally slow, though that could be attributed to her heels. She glanced over her shoulder momentarily and Harry quickly stepped into a bakery entryway. The woman began to walked again, and Harry followed suit.

Harry followed her for thirty minutes through Queens, over a bridge and into Manhattan. He was surprised she could walk so long in those heels, though she was endlessly surprising him. Violence, elegance, stamina.

The woman suddenly stopped in front of a large government building and checked her watch. After a moment a man walked out of the building and briefly nodded at the woman, and handed her a pamphlet. And a ticket.

The Met Gala.

Harry smiled. That is where she would be on Friday. He followed her for a few more blocks before she glanced over her shoulder and Harry could swear she smiled right at him as she turned the corner. Harry quickly turned the corner and she was no where to be found.

"Merlin, I lost her. She just…disappeared."

 _"Just as I gained back full quality. Perfect."_

"No need to worry, Merlin. I know where she'll be tomorrow.

 _"And where is that?"_

"Where every important person this side of the hemisphere will be."

 _"Wimbledon?"_

"The Met Gala." Harry smiled. "I'll be needing a tuxedo. Merlin, know any good tailors in the area?"


	3. Chapter 3: Debussy's Arabesque No 1

The next evening approached quickly. Harry had gotten his new tuxedo and much to his surprise, it fit incredibly well. As he was in the elevator he caught himself in the reflective glass and straightened his bowtie. Classic peak lapel, single breasted, quarter inch cuffs, flat front waist, fitted pant with a single peak—no cuff. And of course, Oxfords.

 _"You look dashing, Galahad."_

"Thank you, Merlin." Harry smirked and exited the elevator. He hailed a cab. "The Metropolitan Museum of Art, please."

"You got it." The cabbie said and drove off. During the short drive over Harry suddenly felt slightly nervous. He had to figure out his plan here. He would find her, isolate her, and chauffeur her back to his hotel room where he will question, or more honestly interrogate her. He was only nervous because of their last encounter. But with the amount of people present she wouldn't dare entice a fight. But then again he didn't really know her at all.

When he arrived he almost felt overwhelmed. The people, the dresses, the cameras and flashes. When he arrived inside he noticed a grand piano was playing Debussy's "Arabesque No. 1" and he thought for moment that maybe he should try to attend next year's gala. When he wasn't in pursuit of a criminal.

 _"See any sign of our Grace Kelly?"_ Merlin asked in Harry's earpiece.

"Not yet, though it's hard to tell with the amount of guests in attendance."

"Champagne?" A waiter approached Harry and smiled.

"Thank you." Harry grabbed a glass and smelled it before sipping it. He made a face of surprised satisfaction.

After an hour of a modest dinner and mingling Harry thought he might never find the illusive woman. There were a lot of beautiful blond women in attendance which made his task twice as difficult, even with Merlin as a second pair of eyes.

 _"Harry, are you sure she's here?"_

"She has to be, why else would she have gotten that ticket? Think about it, Merlin, you're a woman of culture and elegance who just received five hundred thousand pounds the day before the biggest social event in the New York City. Of course she's here, I just need to find her. She's somewh—" Harry suddenly paused. The pianist began to hit the soft notes of "Claire De Lune" and he spotted her. At least, he thought. The woman turned around and Harry's breath dropped. Not her. "False alarm."

 _"Galahad, I just received an alert our diamond is up for sale on the black market. I'm tracing the seller as we speak. You may need to retreat, Princess Grace may no longer be involved."_

"Copy." Harry was confused. Something didn't seem quite right to him. Why was this woman independently involved with the criminal party? She could be contracted, which was the easiest assessment out of them all. But somehow Harry felt that didn't quite fit this woman. She didn't seem like she was, as they say "for hire."

 _"Well that was fast. Buyer already in Madrid. And our seller is hold up in…Atlantic City?"_ Harry sighed. Just great, this makes absolutely no sense. He downed a full glass of champagne and grabbed another from a waiter. _"Galahad I hate to say it but you may have been led astray."_

"This just doesn't make sense Mer—" Suddenly someone knocked into him from behind, making him lose his grip on his champagne glass. But a hand quickly reached out and caught it just before it fell to the floor, saving every drop almost instantly.

"Excuse me, I apologize I can be so clumsy when I've had a few glasses." The woman smiled and Harry's world suddenly fell into place.

It was her.

Slowly she placed the glass back in his hand and smiled a knowing and slightly mischievous smile. As if her clumsiness was not random whatsoever.

"Clumsiness, or the grace of a dancer, would be just as deadly an opponent." Harry spoke, gaining his mental footing back. "To libations, that is."

"To libations, I have no quarrel. Only with you, do I see a battle forthcoming." The woman smiled and Harry was frozen.

 _"Galahad, is that her? Jesus you weren't kidding, Grace Kelly—spitting image."_ Merlin chuckled in slight awe.

Harry could not hear Merlin, Harry could hardly hear anything, much less interpret function outside of standing up straight and breathing. She was breath-taking. A breath-taking criminal, but breath-taking nonetheless in her beautiful burgundy evening gown, than clung to every inch and curve of her torso and hips.

The woman grabbed his glass again and took a sip of his champagne.

"Lovely gala, isn't it?" Was all Harry could muster.

"Oh very, I come to these every year and they never cease to amaze me."

 _"Galahad if you asses she is not a threat we need you back in England as soon as possible."_

"Has anyone ever told you bare a striking resemblance to Grace Kelly?"

"Only every day of my waking life, and sometimes in my dreams." The woman smiled and placed the glass back in Harry's hand. Harry looked down at her neck and noticed a very elegant and simple gold chain with a moderate sized black diamond on the end of it. Of course.

"What a beautiful necklace." He said, smirking. He knew it. He knew all along. She sold a decoy. Clever, clever woman. "Where ever did you acquire such a piece?"

"Oh you and I both know that's classified." She smirked gently, suggestively, stepping closer to Harry. Harry in turn stood his ground, fighting a hot churn in his chest. Both in hesitation and attraction. He couldn't deny it, she was beautiful and she knew it.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to give that diamond to me so I can return it to its rightful owner."

"So polite," she said, then she leaned up and whispered in his ear, "But I'm also afraid you're mistaken. The rightful owner is already in possession of what is rightfully theirs." She softly kissed his jaw, just below his ear, giving him chills. "Nice tux by the way."

The woman stepped back and winked at Harry before she walked away, her hips swaying in a way that was self-assured and nearly on beat with the piano.

 _"Galahad what are you doing? You're letting her get away!"_ Merlin yelled in his ear piece but Harry was frozen. Quite literally frozen.

"Merlin she drugged me, I'm—I'm losing my vision." Harry quickly jumped out of his reverie and ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Harry grunted in pain and fell to his knees. "The ki—her lips were…"

Harry lost his vision completely and he fell to the floor, losing consciousness.

* * *

The next thing Harry remembered was waking up in the Kingsman infirmary. He woke with a jolt, like a shock of electricity and jumped out of his bed. Merlin suddenly walked in, a surprised look on his face.

"Slow down, Harry." He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and sat him back down on the bed.

"How long was I out?"

"Damn near three days. We thought we lost you, Harry. Whatever topical drug she used almost killed you. I tried to gather a sample for testing but it dissolved from your skin in 90 seconds. Kind of brilliant actually." Harry sucked in a breath. The shock of waking still taking a toll on his cognitive brain function. All he could see were those eyes, and those lips.

"Merlin, the woman—"

"She's gone, no sign of her. Facial recognition software didn't even catch a hit on her face."

"She's a ghost." Harry paused for a moment, unsure whether Merlin knew about the diamond he spotted on the woman's neck. "Any news about the buyer in Madrid, Atlantic City?"

"Lancelot secured the diamond once it reached Madrid, actually quite easily." Harry sighed heavily, laying himself back on the bed. "What is it Harry?"

"It's nothing, nothing. I just can't believe I got my ass handed to me by that woman twice. It's like I haven't been a Kingsman for 20 years." Merlin nodded his head.

"You should rest. Arthur will want you back to work as soon as you're able." Harry nodded, of course he did. He loved and respected Arthur like a brother but sometimes he had no perspective.

Merlin left the room and Harry sat up. He felt like shooting something. Killing something. Killing her. She was a ghost, Harry will probably never catch her scent again. But he had to try, this woman outsmarted him, twice. He had to know how, he had to believe it wasn't just her sexuality or the element of surprise. Though she did use both of those things to her advantage.

Harry had to find her. He didn't give a rats ass about the diamond, if she was clever enough to fool the Queen with a fake, let her keep it. This was personal.

* * *

 **Please please please let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4: Gnossienne

**Two months later.**

Harry had been working diligently as he was delighted a mission in South Africa. But in his free time he struggled to find the woman. That damn woman. Harry felt like he had gotten no where, but he had gotten at least somewhere.

He had a photo of her that his glasses had captured. Looking at her face every day only motivated him more.

Harry was sitting in a taxi on his way to Saville Row when the driver turned on the radio. Normally he wouldn't mind but the song on the radio was Clair de Lune. The song that was being played when the woman had bumped into him. The cabbie changed the channel again, but was surprised with another Debussy song. "Arabesque No. 1" Harry sat up and narrowed his eyes.

"How odd two channels playing the same composer during prime time radio." He mused at the cabbie, who in turn switched the channel once more and again, was surprised to hear "Gnossienne: No. 1" by Erik Satie.

"Ah, forget it." The cabbie groaned and pulled over as he pulled up to the tailor shop.

"Thank you very much." Harry said as he jumped out of the cab quickly and ran into the shop. The man at the counter greeted him but Harry ran past him to the radio on the back wall and turned it on with a click.

Every single channel was playing different songs that he heard that night at the Met Gala. This was no coincidence.

Then suddenly without cause the music stopped and there was several flat seconds of silence. Then a female radio caster spoke.

"This evening's classical music programme brought to you by Palazzo Parigi Milano. "Paradise is just a short plane ride away, what are you waiting for?" And now we continue with Guiseppe Verdi's Nabucco Overture." The voice faded out and the overture started.

Harry could hardly contain his smile. Finally, finally this woman had thrown him the proverbial bone. She is in Milan, waiting for him. And he will be there, just a short plane ride away.

* * *

 _"Galahad I still think this is huge risk, what if this is a trap?"_

"Oh, Merlin, where's your sense of adventure, sense of risk."

 _"It flew out the window with my sanity when you told me you're actually going to Italy based off a radio transmitted clue."_ Galahad smirked, checking his tie in the mirror of his hotel room located just outside of Milan.

"If things so awry, I can take care of myself. It's been two months and I'm not going to let her get the better of me again. But for the purposes of this meeting I'm gong to forgo the glasses, Merlin. I hope you won't take offense to it, I need her to trust me and these are a dead giveaway to someone like her." Harry kept them on for a moment as Merlin sighed.

 _"Right, well good luck, Galahad."_

"Thank you, Merlin." And with that Harry took his glasses off and placed them in his breast pocket. Harry left his hotel into the brisk evening air. He assumed that the moment he set foot in Italy the woman knew he was there. He had to try to get the element of surprise on her.

...

The Palazzo Parigi Milano. One of the top hotels in Milan, and Italy for that matter, or so he's heard. One night can range from the upper thousands and higher. And one thing he knew about this woman, as little that he did know about her, was her taste. She had impeccable taste, so obviously she was staying in the Presidential Suite. Anything else and he would believe her to be laying low. But this girl, she does not lay low.

When he approached the hotel he was taken aback by its beauty. The Italians really did know their way around designing a building. Harry walked around the building and noticed a room on the top floor with it's balcony doors ajar and all the windows open. And faintly he could hear a piano. That was the one.

Intuitively Harry began to climb the building. Which was very easy given the rose vines that had grown to the top of the building. As he got higher the piano got louder, and it sounded like it was in the environment, as if someone was playing it in the room. Chopin, a prelude, op. 28 number 4—possibly in E minor. Or was it one of Debussy's Gnossiennes? Or perhaps a mix of the two.

When Harry reached the balcony he silently hopped over the ledge and landed soundlessly. He peered into the room through the glass doors but suddenly the piano stopped. Out of the left side of the room a woman walked up to the balcony doors. She opened one and smiled at Harry. It was the woman, clad in a long tight black dress with a deep cut neck. Harry stood up straight and gulped, comically, upon seeing her.

"I see you got my invitation." She smiled, opening the door wider to let him in. Harry stepped into the room slowly, eying every vantage of the large suite, noting possible exits and weapons, just in case. "You look very nice in that suit, though I must say I think I prefer you in a tux." The woman moved past him, moving so gently, so quickly it seemed as if she glided by like a ghost.

"Yes well, I felt the occasion called for another sort of suit, one with more—utility."

She sat at the table set up in the small dining area, "Yes, we both have on our battle armor." She eyed him up and down slowly, with an expression that all at once read worry, intrigue, and enchantment. Harry narrowed his eyes and slowly stepped toward the table and took a seat in front of her. They stared at each other for several moments in complete silence. The woman sat completely still, a small smirk on her face—waiting for Harry to break the stillness.

"You don't trust me." Harry said, a smirk on his face that he couldn't even attempt to hide. Hers fell.

"Do you trust _me_?" She retorted.

"Why should I? You nearly killed me the last time we met." The woman then wore a smirk of her own.

"I would apologize but I know you wouldn't accept it…if it makes you feel any better that kiss was meant for someone else."

"Oddly enough, doesn't settle any better."

"Well then, in an attempt to make you more comfortable I can assure you that I am not armed with either physical weapons nor lipstick—or fatal make-up of any kind." Harry nodded, and slightly taken aback. He wasn't the type of man to have a shallow regard toward a woman and make-up, but she was so beautiful he hardly noticed that her complexion was even although slightly be-speckled with a string of freckles on her nose, and pale, pink soft lips. Natural.

"I must say that does make me feel a bit better. If only a little." Harry smiled gently at her. "Just the act of non-application is reason enough for me to believe you come in peace, as they say."

"Yes, well, I know there's a reason you decided to come and find me, and I also know there's a reason you have those glasses in your pocket." Harry listened intently, her voice was odd. Originally he thought her American, but now listening to her accent, relaxed and soft, sounded to have native hints of French. How very odd.

"You may be onto something there. But you and I both know there's a reason you let me find you." Harry said.

"Yes well, you may be correct in that aspect, indeed."

"Then we are on the same page then."

"Not quite…I feel we are at an odds, because you sitting there in that handsome, handsome suit does not put me in anyway of comfort." A smile, mischievous look came across her lips, "You see, I am moderately familiar with the Kingsman Secret Service, so I'm going to need you to do a favor for me."

"And what might that be, pray tell?"

"I'm going to need you to empty your pockets and remove your shoes." She spoke quickly, and pointedly. And Harry sighed. Of course she did. If Harry was going to get anywhere with this meeting he needed her to trust him. So he stood and emptied out all his pockets and placed its contents onto the piano top, like she asked. He removed his shoes and placed them gently off to the side.

"Satisfied?"

The woman paused for several moments, "Let's lose that blazer, belt, and tie too."

Harry stared at her as he reluctantly removed his blazer. "Hanger?"

"Closet by the front door." She smirked and Harry hung his blazer, belt, and tie in her closet. He walked back over.

"There. Comfortable now?" The woman slowly stood and narrowed her eyes, placing her hand on her chin in thought.

"No. Not quite." Without a second thought, Harry began to unbutton his shirt to reveal a white undershirt. She stood still watching him with an unreadable expression on her face, opposite of Harry who was, to say moderately annoyed would be an understatement. Harry hung his shirt next to his blazer and turned to her. "Pants too."

Then the woman turned and sat back in her chair and waited for him to return.

When Harry returned to his chair the woman smiled at his appearance. But Harry was damned if he let that diminish his confidence in the situation.

"Alright, that's so much better. First, what is your name?" The woman asked, getting straight to the point.

"Galahad." The woman paused for just a moment.

"Well Galahad, you can call me Guinevere." Harry's eyebrows raised. They were playing that game then. Guinevere leaned forward gently, looking into Harry's eyes. He spotted for a moment that her eyes were so dark of a blue they almost looked indigo. "See anything you like?" She flirted.

Harry smirked, struggling to contain a flirtatious response of his own. "No."

She leaned back. "Do you enjoy Debussy?"

"Yes I do, very much."

"I love his Gnossiennes. Tell me, Galahad, do you know what "gnossiennes" means?"

"It's the acknowledgement of the moment that one becomes aware they will never be privy to another person feelings, no matter how close they may feel."

"Indeed," she smirked, "It is unfortunate we cannot see into eachother's eyes in such a way. I wonder if I looked through your eyes what I would see..."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Guinevere perked up.

"Come in!" She yelled, "I almost forgot. What's a better way to get to know someone than over a nice dinner and a bottle of wine?" A waiter came in with a cart of food and a single bottle of wine.

"Only one bottle?" Harry smirked. The waiter placed two plates of generously sized steaks in front of them, the smell almost made Harry's mouth water.

"Signora?" The waiter showed her the bottle and she smiled brightly.

"Si, grazie. You can leave it, I'll open it." The waiter nodded and let the room with the cart. "So Galahad, are you a wine man?"

"I prefer a good whiskey or bourbon, if I'm given a choice. But yes, on occasion I'll indulge in a glass or two." Guinevere grabbed the cork screw and swiftly she popped the cork off, as if she had done it a thousand times before. She then set it on the table to let it breathe, but twisted the bottle so the label faced Harry.

"I love wine myself. Can't really get enough of it." She said softly.

Harry grabbed the neck of the bottle and brought it closer, "Cheval Blanc 1947? You have got to be fucking kidding me." Normally Harry would refrain from cursing in front of a woman, even one like Guinevere, but the moment over took him. This bottle had to be worth at least 25,000 pounds. Guinevere chuckled at his awe.

"I felt the occasion called for it." That smile, the incredibly expensive wine, the steak. If Harry wasn't careful he might lose focus. Guinevere grabbed the bottle and poured a glass for both of them. Her finger traced the edge of her glass and she tilted her head to the side as if she was listening to it.

"What shall we toast to?" Harry asked.

"Hmm…to a potential partnership."

Harry smiled gently, curiously, and clinked his glass with hers. Harry waited for her to take a sip before he did, and when that dark red liquid hit his lips he almost groaned out loud.

"By god, this has to be the best wine I've ever tasted." Guinevere took another sip of it and smiled.

"You know sometimes these expensive old wines can turn out to be really rank when you open them, so I am pleasantly surprised…" Guinevere paused for a moment and coughed suddenly, "Sorry, I—uh—-"

Harry sucked in a breath and then he felt it. The vision blur. The wine was drugged. He fell for it again.

"You fucking—"

"I didn't—I didn't do it this time I swear to you." She stood slowly but fell to her knees. Harry instinctively reached down to help her up but he fell with a groan. The last thing he saw was Guinevere, passed out on the floor next to him.


	5. Chapter 5: Who is Rene Teshigahara?

Harry woke up suddenly with a deep gasp. His head pounded and he left motionless. His vision was slowly returning to him. He realized he was still in Guinevere's hotel room, but it was morning. The sun was shining in through the windows in a bright yellow haze, making Harry's head pound like a drum. Then Harry looked down and quickly realized the predicament he was in.

He was tied, all limbs, to a chair in the middle of the room. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and noticed it was a head of blond hair. Guinevere tied up behind him in the same position.

"Guinevere…" He groaned, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to wake her. "Wake up, come on."

The women quietly moaned and slowly opened her eyes. There was a pause then she jumped up with a gasp.

"Fuck!" She moved around quickly, "Fuck fuck fuck." After a moment she leaned her head back and sighed.

"Good morning." Harry said sarcastically. She scoffed in response. Harry was still in his undershirt and boxers. "What the fuck happened last night?"

"I don't know—I don't know. We have to do something, Galahad." Harry paused, hearing his code name in her voice, calmed him for some reason, and within her strained and panicked tone he heard more French in her accent—and that intrigued him, he pondered momentarily if she was forcing the American accent.

"I would love to get us out of this situation but someone made me take my bloody suit off."

"Oh like who ever did this to us wouldn't have disarmed you while you were passed out." Harry grumbled, and huffed.

"Okay, let's take a step back. Do you know who could have done this? Did anyone know you were here?" Harry asked.

"No, of course not. The only person that knows I'm here is tied to my fucking back."

"Well obviously not or we wouldn't be in this goddamn situation!"

"Hold on." She said from behind him, in a mild tone.

"What? What is it?" There was nothing but silence, "Guinevere?"

"The waitstaff. It had to be someone on the waitstaff." Harry sighed.

"The man who handled the wine." He realized.

"It had to be—goddamnit!"

"What?"

"I really wanted to finish that steak." She said sadly.

"You get us out of this mess I'll take you to get the best steak in the country." Guinevere smiled.

"Is that a promise, Galahad?"

"If I had a contract in front of me I'd sign it."

She continued to smile, and Harry could help but smirk himself. "Alright Galahad, test out all your limbs, any loose?"

"None—if I could only get one limb loose I would reach my phone or my glasses and call for help."

"Who ever did this was smart enough to tie our hands apart from each other." Guinevere mumbled, talking to herself. "However, I have a tricky ankle that might—just—yes!"

"Brilliant! Can you reach my glasses or my phone?" Guinevere extended her foot but she couldn't reach it.

"No, not quite. But if I can get an angle on my other leg I might be able to free it. Damnit." She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry Galahad I feel like this is all my fault. This was definitely not how the evening was supposed to go."

"That's alright, I couldn't think of a better way to die than in a hotel room in Milan tied to a chair in nothing but my undergarments next to a woman I hardly know."

"I know you're being sarcastic but that does make me feel a bit better."

"Good, I'd hate for both of us to suffer—"

"Do you have anything in your shoes?" Guinevere said out of the blue, "A weapon, or anything?"

"Yes, the left shoe—there's a concealed blade in the sole. German heel to expose." Harry said quickly.

"I think I can reach it with my foot—got it!"

"Be very very careful, the blade is coated in the world's deadliest fast acting poison—"

"I'm out." Guinevere jumped up.

"Are you serious?" She smiled and searched wildly around the room before she grabbed a steak knife from the dinner table. She knelt in front of Harry and cut the cords from his hands and feet.

Harry stood and nodded at her.

"I think your clothing should still be where you left it." Guinevere turned around and walked toward the bathroom. Harry quickly put his suit back on. She returned to the main room quickly looking slightly refreshed.

"Now—" Guinevere approached him and gently straightened his tie. Harry cleared his throat and said softly:

"Thank you."

She smiled.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. They both paused. Harry stepped forward but Guinevere put her hand softly on his chest, pushing him back slightly. She stepped up to the door and looked through the peep hole.

"It's him." She whispered. Then after a moment of silence they heard sounds of the door being unlocked with a key card.

Harry quickly pushed his shoulder against the door, holding it shut and looked at Guinevere.

"Quick—what's our plan?" He asked.

"Information, he can't be working alone with drugs as strong as that." Harry nodded and threw the door open and grabbed the man by the lapels. Guinevere ripped the gun from his hand and dismantled it in less than five seconds. If Harry hadn't been preoccupied with the man he would have been too incredibly impressed.

Harry threw the man into the chair and stood above him. The man, in a ruffled up maroon lobby boy uniform, looked panicked at the two of them, confused probably because they weren't passed out and tied to their chairs. Harry spoke first.

"Alright, let's make this easy—I'm going to ask you a series of questions and you're going to answer them or else some terrible things will happen to your body. Is that understood?" The man said nothing, he only clinched his jaw and breathed heavily. "Who are you?"

"I'm—I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Why were you breaking into this hotel room with a gun?"

"I—I wasn't…" he responded. Then Guinevere grabbed Harry's arm and stepped up next to him.

"Excuse me, darling." Harry stepped to the side just as Guinevere suddenly jammed the steak knife into his knee. The man howled in pain, grasping his knee and sweating profusely, "Cut the shit. That gun is military issued. Who do you work for?"

Harry raised his eye brows in gently shock. She was a firecracker, that's for sure. But she also seemed incredibly agitated. While Harry was upset and annoyed, Guinevere seemed particularly perturbed.

"I don't—I don't know what —you want from me!" Guinevere grabbed the handle of the knife and twisted, "OH my god! Take it out—take it out!"

"Tell us who you work for and I'll take it out."

"Please, just take it out and I'll tell you! I promise, just take it out." The man cried and Guinevere sighed, pulling the knife out and threw it on the floor.

The man breathed out in relief, though still grasping at his wound.

"Alright, then." Guinevere gestured for him to talk.

"I—don't know his name." Harry stepped forward this time and leaned into his face.

"If you keep lying to us I will take your hand and break every bone in your fingers until you tell us the truth. Or, rather, if you prefer to continue your lies my associate here will beat you so far beyond recognition your own mother won't be able to identify your body."

Guinevere smirked at Harry.

When the man didn't respond Harry grabbed his hand.

"Okay! Okay! Okay! I'll talk!" Harry leaned back and waited. "I was hired by a man called Rene."

Guinevere took a heavy step back while Harry stepped forward, intrigued.

"And does this Rene have a surname?"

The man looked at Guinevere with a certain twinkle in his eye, "Teshigahara."

Harry looked at Guinevere for a moment and saw her rosy cheeks fall pale.

"Who were you sent to kill?" She asked slowly.

"The princess." The man paused and glanced at Harry, "And the Kingsman."

Guinevere gently grabbed the gun she had disassembled and reassembled it at a pace that made the man gulp in anticipation. Once she slipped the bullet magazine in and cocked it she shot him in the stomach.

Harry jumped back and watched her place the gun to the man's temple.

"How much is he paying you?"

The man coughed and blood ran from his mouth, down his chin.

"Not enough."

A fire raged from within her, Harry was amazed. She threw the gun down and lifted the man up by his lapels and dragged him to the balcony. Harry watched silently from the room.

"You're going to tell me right here and right now, or I will throw you over this balcony without a shred of regret; Is Rene Teshigahara alive?" The man didn't answer, so she shook him, and repeated, "Is Rene Teshigahara still alive, yes or no!"

The man coughed, but then he chuckled, "Yes, and he's after you and your little spy."

Guinevere clinched her jaw. "Where is he?"

"He's where ever you are, Princess Grimaldi." Guinevere suddenly dropped him and he fell with a scream. But before they could hear the crash she shut the doors to the balcony and looked at Harry.

"We need to leave."

"We?" Harry asked as she grabbed her bag from under the couch and unzipped it.

"Yes, we." She pulled out a black suit and laid it out. "I will explain everything, but first I need you to help me unzip my dress." She turned her back to him and held her hair up in a bunch.

Harry did not hesitate to take the zipper that sat at the base of her neck and pulled it down. When her full back was exposed Harry respectfully turned around and let her dress in private.

He heard her shuffle for several moments and then heard the zip of the bag. Harry looked over his shoulder to see her fully dressed in a form-fitting black blazer and slacks, with a low cut black shirt beneath. She sat on the couch and tied the laces of her Oxfords. When she stood Harry was taken slightly aback.

Harry all of a sudden felt like he had met his equal. In strength and in style.

"I must say, that is a handsome suit. Who do you go to?"

Guinevere smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?" That American accent was back as she walked past him, with her bag slung around her shoulder. "Alright, Mr. Galahad. Follow me."

* * *

Guinevere had led Galahad three blocks away from the hotel to a secluded parking garage. There she unlocked a black 1990 Maserati. Harry internally smiled, always in style—never laying it low.

Once they left city limits Guinevere sighed, glancing around her mirrors, checking her surroundings.

"Alright, I'll get right to it." She said, her French accent more apparent. Harry sat back, watching the fields pass by, waiting for her to speak. "I haven't been completely honest with you. Or I've at least withheld very important information. As you may have heard from that man I threw over the balcony back there my real name. Yes, my real name is Guinevere, my last name is Kelly-Grimaldi. I am the youngest daughter of Grace Kelly and Rainier III."

"You're shitting me." Harry didn't know how to react. Right here, in this car, the woman he'd been chasing after for months, this woman that so very much reminded him of Grace Kelly was a Princess of Monaco. He mentally berated himself and Merlin for not seeing it.

"And I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I've caught you up in my terrible mess." She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Who is Rene Teshigahara?"

"Rene is—or more aptly, was the man that…" She paused, struggling with her words, "He was a very bad man, a murderer and the leader of a gang that wiped out our close friends and family just to get to my mother. But she died before he got the chance. By then he was the most powerful gang leader of all of Monaco and France, perhaps of Europe and Asia. After that he turned his attentions to me and my sisters. After years of being stalked by this man I killed him. It was then when I decided to become a spy for Monaco Secret Service. But that's besides the point…I thought Teshigahara was dead. I could have sworn…"

"And yet, he is alive and is not only in pursuit of you, Princess of Monaco, but myself as well." Harry said pointedly, letting all the information sink in.

"I know—I know it sounds completely far fetched. But this man, if he's after me he most likely hopped onto your trail when you were looking for me. I'm sure he now sees you as an obstacle between himself and me."

"And now, I am within the midsts—brilliant." Harry sighed, only blaming himself.

"I really am sorry, Galahad. This man, he's dangerous and insane. I think it's best if we stay together—out on your own, I'm afraid you wouldn't stand a chance."

Harry scoffed, "You know I am a Kingsman after all—I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

Guinevere glanced from the road for a moment at Harry, "Are you, Galahad?"

Harry rolled his eyed and sighed, "Fine. We figure this out together…in the meantime you might as well call me by my real name…it's Harry."

Guinevere smiled gently, "I know." Harry stared at her for a moment before sighing. Of course she knew. "I am very fond of you, Mr. Hart. Which is why I told you my real name. It just happened to fit within your Kingsman mythology."

Harry nodded, checking his watch.

"So, what's the plan, grab a quick steak and kill the most powerful gang leader in Europe by dusk?"

Guinevere smiled a genuine smile, "That sounds quite alright with me."

* * *

 **Please, please let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6: Ill-Prepared

Guinevere led Harry three blocks away from the hotel to a secluded parking garage. There she unlocked a black 1990 Maserati. Harry internally smiled, always in style—never laying it low.

Once they left city limits Guinevere sighed, glancing around her mirrors, checking her surroundings.

"Alright, I'll get right to it." She said, her French accent more apparent. Harry sat back, watching the fields pass by, waiting for her to speak. "I haven't been completely honest with you. Or I've at least withheld very important information. As you may have heard from that man I threw over the balcony back there my real name. Yes, my real name is Guinevere, my last name is Kelly-Grimaldi. I am the youngest daughter of Grace Kelly and Rainier III."

"You're shitting me." Harry didn't know how to react. Right here, in this car, the woman he'd been chasing after for months, this woman that so very much reminded him of Grace Kelly was a Princess of Monaco. He mentally berated himself and Merlin for not seeing it.

"And I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I've caught you up in my terrible mess." She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Who is Rene Teshigahara?"

"Rene is—or more aptly, was the man that…" She paused, struggling with her words, "He was a very bad man, a murderer and the leader of a gang that wiped out our close friends and family just to get to my mother. But she died before he got the chance. By then he was the most powerful gang leader of all of Monaco and France, perhaps of Europe and Asia. After that he turned his attentions to me and my sisters. After years of being stalked by this man I killed him. It was then when I decided to become a spy for Monaco Secret Service. But that's besides the point…I thought Teshigahara was dead. I could have sworn…"

"And yet, he is alive and is not only in pursuit of you, Princess of Monaco, but myself as well." Harry said pointedly, letting all the information sink in.

"I know—I know it sounds completely far fetched. But this man, if he's after me he most likely hopped onto your trail when you were looking for me. I'm sure he now sees you as an obstacle between himself and me."

"And now, I am within the midsts—brilliant." Harry sighed, only blaming himself.

"I really am sorry, Galahad. This man, he's dangerous and insane. I think it's best if we stay together—out on your own, I'm afraid you wouldn't stand a chance."

Harry scoffed, "You know I am a Kingsman after all—I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

Guinevere glanced from the road for a moment at Harry, "Are you, Galahad?"

Harry rolled his eyed and sighed, "Fine. We figure this out together…in the meantime you might as well call me by my real name…it's Harry."

Guinevere smiled gently, "I know." Harry stared at her for a moment before sighing. Of course she knew. "I am very fond of you, Mr. Hart. Which is why I told you my real name. It just happened to fit within your Kingsman mythology."

Harry nodded, checking his watch.

"So, what's the plan, grab a quick steak and kill the most powerful gang leader in Europe by dusk?"

Guinevere smiled a genuine smile, "That sounds quite alright with me."

* * *

Guinevere and Harry drove from Italy into France. It was a long drive and they didn't talk much. But when the moments hit them they shared a few very meaningful conversations about France and the countryside, and they both spent a good hour discussing bees and their presence in Europe, and how Harry was allergic to them.

Harry was comfortable, despite the impending doom he felt. He didn't know this Rene Teshigahara, but based on Guinevere's reaction to his current status of liveliness, he had much to worry about. But riding in the car with this woman he had hated, but was now partnered with, he struggled with the aching feeling of attraction, emotional attraction that is, towards her. Ever so slightly.

She was beautiful, he could not deny that even when he hated her. But she was beautiful and incredibly resourceful. Harry wouldn't have been able to get out that hotel half as easily as he did with Guinevere by his side. From what little he's seen of her, she's a brilliant agent. Practical, tactical, and another word he couldn't quite put his finger on but was something akin to…admirable. Though, Harry being an English man of his age, and his stature—to admire a woman ten years his junior, and a _French_ woman on top of that. It was madness. Pure absurd madness.

Guinevere yawned as the sun was setting and Harry was speaking to Arthur on the phone, assuring him of their situation.

"Merlin is conducting a search on this Teshigahara as we speak, to assess the danger you're in. Though I cannot condone a partnership with this woman, seems far too risky."

"I think the word you're looking for is fishy." Guinevere smirked from the driver's side, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. "As I said, Arthur, there's nothing to worry with her. She's trustworthy. Besides, if she wanted me dead she's had the last 15 hours to do so."

Guinevere rolled her eyes as Harry got of the phone. "Your commander's code name is Arthur?" She held in a chuckled.

"Yes it is."

She smiled but kept her eyes on the road, "You Englishmen and your traditions."

"Oh yes, coming from a princess—"our" traditions are ridiculous." Harry rolled his eyes, "How much longer?"

"Not too long now."

After another hour the sun had completely set and she pulled into a long drive way up to a small house hidden away in the trees.

"What is this place?" Harry slowly stepped out.

Guinevere grabbed their bags and walked up to the door. "It's a safe house."

She twisted the deadbolt over and it revealed an LED screen. Guinevere placed her thumb on it. After a moment her thumb was scanned and three locks clicked within the door.

The lights turned on when they stepped in. Harry glanced at a wine and cheese basket on the table, "Courtesy of Monaco Secret Service?"

Guinevere chuckled, "How could you tell?" She looked through the kitchen and smiled, "Thank god they stocked the kitchen, I'm starving." She grabbed an orange and began to peel it while Harry still took a cautious look around. "You can relax, Harry. We're safe here for the moment."

"For the moment." Harry repeated back to her, walking over to her in the kitchen. Guinevere placed the orange down and stood in front of him. Gently she took the umbrella from his hand and placed it on the counter. Then she removed his glasses, and placed her hands on his arms and maneuvered him to a seat at the island. She slid a bowl of grapes his way.

"Now you eat those grapes, and you relax. I can't work with someone with a stick up their ass the whole time." Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

"I do not have a stick up my ass." He popped a grape into his mouth and chewed, tasting the sweet and tart flavor. Guinevere smiled, feeling accomplished. After a moment she wandered around the other cabinets.

"Holy shit." Harry stood quickly at Guinevere's panicked statement.

"What is it?"

Guinevere turned around with a large bottle in her hand, "In the mood for some brandy?"

"Oh, fuck, yes." Harry said with an exasperated tone.

* * *

Harry sat at the fire the following morning, Guinevere sat at the breakfast table, tire stricken across their faces. Harry, upon insisting Guinevere take the single bed upstairs had slept on the couch the night before and was regretting the decision. Though he be damned if he let her know.

Guinevere took a sip of her tea and read through the few files the safe house had in the basement. A small collection of Monaco Secret Service intel. They had dealt with Rene Teshigahara before.

Harry took a sip of his own tea and watched her. She was dressed in an elegant gray suit, Harry remembered this was the suit he first saw her in. A blue and red bandana was tied around her neck, and underneath that bandana he could see a bulge from under her dress shirt, very small, but unnatural. It was the necklace.

"Why are you staring at me?" She said, still flipping through the pages of the files.

"Sorry, just thinking."

"About?" She inquired, still meandering through the pages.

Harry paused for a moment, dare he ask?

Guinevere adjusted the glasses on her nose and opened another file. And after a minute or two he spoke.

"I was actually, thinking about…the diamond…"

"What about it?"

"Why did you take it?" He asked softly, in an attempt to not offend.

Then Guinevere set the file down and looked at him.

"Because it was my mothers."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "I thought it was the Queen's diamond." He pondered, perhaps there was more to this story than he realized.

"It was stolen from my family in the seventies, some how it ended up within the Queen's treasury, as stolen items tend to do."

"Hey now."

Guinevere hardly displayed a smirk. "When my mother died I made it a mission of mine to retrieve it and return it home to her, any matters necessary."

Harry nodded, she was caring and she was loyal. "I see." He said, "Do you think Teshigahara showing up might have something to do with the diamond?"

"It's unlikely, but I'm not ruling it out completely…apart from you and I no one knows I have it, and the decoy was sold through the market in Madrid I think."

"Yes, you are right." Guinevere smirked and went back to her tea and her files. A smirk that bespoke the words "I'm always right." Harry struggled to say anything else, and honestly Harry felt completely useless in the situation.

"These files are nothing but bad reported non-sense." She sighed, "What about your guy? Last night he said he was looking into it?"

"Yes, I spoke with Merlin this morning. Nothing that our databases could discern unfortunately." Guinevere chuckled, "What?"

"Merlin…" She stood, shaking her head, and refilled her cup of tea with coffee.

"Guinevere, can you tell me what exactly you know about this man? I feel we are on unequal playing ground at the moment." Guinevere sighed at the question.

"I was hoping these files would act as a sort of background but alas…can't count on your fellow agents for shit…"

Guinevere walked over to the living room and sat adjacent to Harry in front of the fire.

"Well I am all ears, darling."

Guinevere smiled so gently Harry could hardly make it out over the pained look on her face. Harry knew this conversation was going to be difficult. But she sighed and began to speak.

"Rene had a lot of power in Monaco, in the underground. More power than you could realize. He was obsessed with our family. Kind of like a Rasputin situation, but my parents were not fooled by him. He never wanted to kill any of us, except for maybe my father. I feared him when my mother told me who he was, the man that always seemed to be wherever we were. He would send threatening messages to my father, threatening to kidnap me and my sisters. He was deranged. And in the end he killed my mother."

"I thought your mother died of a stroke?"

Guinevere sucked in a breath, "She was in the hospital for heart problems. But Rene got into her room and overdosed her on medications that caused a stroke in her brain. I was there when he did it, I was twelve years old and I watched him kill my mother. And as dramatic as it sounds my mother's last words to me where to kill that man. And I did. It wasn't hard to kill him, in the end, he was actually quite weak and feeble—I was only sixteen after all. What proved more difficult was the body guards he surrounds himself with, and his hired help. Like we encountered in Milan. We'll probably going to experience a lot of that. But if we can get to him…"

"Cut off the head of the snake." Harry finished her thought.

"Exactly." Guinevere looked at the fire with a pensive look on her face. Harry felt now more than ever; ill-prepared.


	7. Chapter 7: Hungarian Dance No 1

That afternoon Harry watched Guinevere call every contact in Paris and the outside region she trusted, inquiring about Teshigahara in the area.

"Bonjour, bonjour, ca va? Écoutez, je m'interroge sur un homme appelé Rene Teshigahara?" She listened for several moments and the slightest smile appeared on her face, "Oui, oui, je peux être contacté à ce numéro. Merci, merci."

Guinevere hung the phone up and smiled.

"Am I to interpret that smile as a positive thing?" Harry asked and in response Guinevere sighed happily.

"We're finally getting somewhere. That was one of the foreign curators of the Louvre, we go way back, says she might have seen him in the museum just yesterday and is going to look back at security footage."

"Fantastic." Harry agreed.

"Now we wait." Guinevere sat at the couch.

"If you'll excuse me I'm going to wash up." Harry said standing, and she nodded at him.

Harry led himself to the shower room and quickly washed up. Harry didn't particularly need a shower, as he hadn't really done anything all day, but he needed something to distract his thoughts—if only for twenty minutes.

He stared at himself in the mirror and held in a sigh. Then he spoke to himself.

"Harry you're being ridiculous." He said, glaring at his reflection. "She tried to kill you two months ago. Stop with the sympathy bullshit." He felt for her, the pain she had been through and the strength she was forced to adapt to and exert.

After a moment of hard stares at himself Harry sighed and dressed himself. As he was straightening his tie he heard a piano being played downstairs faintly.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped down the hall silently. He glanced down the stairs and spotted Guinevere at the upright piano gently plucking away "Gnossienne No. 1" by Erik Satie. He paused there for several moments just listening to her.

"Fuck." He said to himself, remembering something they'd briefly spoken of in the hotel room about the word "gnossienne." He shouldn't expect to understand her, so why was he trying? Other than the obvious beating and drugging, Guinevere had been nothing but kind, polite, and considerate toward him. Harry knew in the back of his mind—a thought that was quickly pushing its way to the front of his mind—that she was only doing what she felt she had to do to survive. And he admired her for that.

Suddenly she stopped playing piano and answered the phone. Harry walked down the stairs and watched her curiously as she spoke in a hushed tone.

Guinevere noticed Harry walk down the steps and hung up the phone quickly with a soft "goodbye." She smirked at him and went back to the piano and began to pluck at Le Piccadilly, which was a happy and upbeat, whimsical song.

"Ha ha, very clever." Harry rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the reference to his home country. Guinevere's fingers slowed to a quieter melody, more repetitive and gentle. "You play very well." Harry said softly.

"Thank you. My mother taught me." She responded and Harry nodded, leaning against the side of the piano. "Do you know how to play?" Harry nodded once more.

"Yes my parents both insisted. Though I am not as practiced as you are." Guinevere kept playing the small tune as she shifted to the end of the bench where she sat, and motioned for Harry to sit next to her. And when he did he could have sworn he saw her intake a breath, out of what emotion he did not know. Guinevere began to play a few notes on the higher end, a song he recognized.

Johannes Brahms' "Hungarian Dance No. 1" but an incredibly slowed down version. While still playing she grabbed his hand and put it over the lower notes. Her hand, while on top of his played those lower notes. Then she lifted her hand off and nodded for him to continue. She placed both her hands on the keys and began that light, sweet melody he remembered so fondly. The sound and the speed were…intoxicating. And while she kept it extremely slow Harry felt like it had ended far too quickly.

"You aren't as bad as you think, Harry." She said to him, looking into his eyes, softly playing the last few notes.

"Shall I add it to my resume?" He asked, lightening up the tension between their bodies.

"I'm surprised it's not already on there." Harry smirked at her response. Then she stood up from the bench and walked into the living room. "Harry, would you like to see what Rene looks like?"

She grabbed a laptop from the coffee table and opened it.

He cleared his throat and nodded, "Yes."

Guinevere clicked through a few emails and ended up on a single photo of a man with long black hair and sunglasses wearing in a moderately tailored black suit walking down a hallway of the Louvre.

"Jenny, my contact at the museum thinks he's there conducting business transactions. Assigning things, paying contracts, and the like." Guinevere zoomed into the photo as far as she could without distorting the image, which wasn't much, but it was enough. Harry saw the man and memorized his face.

"Alright, when do we leave?" Harry asked, turning to Guinevere. She glanced at him, and held his stare for several moments—as if she could hardly believe what was in front of her.

"I think three am would be good. That will give us enough time to travel into Paris, set up a safe location and gather weapons, so we can be at the Louvre when it opens. We'll need a cover up of some sort, disguise ourselves, think of a story."

Harry nodded, completely understanding. "You'll have to get rid of this." Harry pointed to her hair vaguely.

"What, my face?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I meant your hair—the blonde is a dead give away for someone that knows you. And I'll have to stop in Paris to find something a tad less, conspicuous." Harry gestured to his suit.

"I agree, I know a place we can stop by on the way." She glanced at her watch, then at the sun which poured in through the windows. That hazy and hot essence of midday. "It'll be getting late soon, best we eat and turn in early."

Harry stood and walked over to the kitchen, feeling rather silly himself—how comfortable he suddenly felt going into the kitchen to make them both dinner. How domestic of him. Guinevere sat at the kitchen island and watched him for a moment before taking out a notebook to write in. Harry grabbed a few pots and pans to begin making a quick dish of carbonara for them.

Then Harry pulled his blazer off his shoulders and placed it on a back of a chair by the island. And if he had been more observant he would have seen Guinevere watch him as he rolled his sleeves up over his forearms and tighten the cuff just below his elbow. And if he had noticed her watching him out of the corner of her eye he would have also seen the visible intake of breath that came from deep within her gut, a breath that shook her as it exited her lips.

And the moment Harry turned to glance at Guinevere, her head was down in her notebook as if she hadn't looked up since she pulled it out. Harry looked away from her and began to heat up two tablespoons of grape seed oil in the cast iron skillet.

Suddenly Guinevere's head shot up in way that was not sly or shy, but inquisitive.

"Did you hear that?" She asked, closing her notebook and glanced around the living room behind. Harry listened carefully but did not recall a sound.

Then there was a click—a very quiet click from upstairs. Guinevere and Harry shared a sudden glance. Guinevere quickly pulled a gun out from under the island counter and cocked it as Harry pulled his jacket back on and took out a gun of his own.

Harry gestured for her to stay put as he slowly stepped up the stairs to investigate. Guinevere waited.

Suddenly the next thing she saw was a man tumbling down the stairs in a heap, landing at her feet unconscious.

This man was not Harry.

Guinevere looked up at Harry at the top of the stairs.

"Fuck." She said.

* * *

 **Sorry for the shortness, but I hope you liked it either way! Again, please let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8: Miranda and Claude

Guinevere looked up at Harry and began to say something when the front door lock was shot and kicked open by six men who ran in from outside. Harry ran quickly down the stairs, shooting two of them immediately and punched another as he tried to shoot Harry himself. Guinevere shot one in their knees, causing a cry of agony while she ran into the kitchen to gain a better vantage to shoot him in the head. Harry followed Guinevere into the kitchen. One man started shooting at them and Harry quickly grabbed Guinevere to shielded her from the bullets as they hit his jacket.

She glanced up and nodded toward him. Harry nodded in return and ran back into the living room.

Two more men ran in from the front door and sprinted toward the kitchen, one with a large knife who immediately gave Guinevere a deep cut in her arm, which made her drop her gun with a clank. But Guinevere did not respond vocally to the pain as she resourcefully grabbed the steaming cast iron skillet and hit the two men in the head back and forth until they both fell to the ground in a heap.

Guinevere ran over to Harry who quickly dispatched the last man with his gun and breathed out heavily, his hair tousled and his glasses askew. It had happened so fast the two hardly had time to process. And when Harry spotted Guinevere, who's arm had become nearly engulfed in blood he thought that particularly true of her, she acted on impulse and was still so on alert she had yet to register her injury.

"Are you alright?" Was what she said first and Harry looked at her, curiously and confused. Was _he_ alright?

"Yes, yes I'm fine but Guinevere, I'm afraid you're bleeding from your arm." She glanced at her arm and her eyebrows rose. She investigated through the layers of her suit and found the wound.

"Oh it's nothing too bad, darling."

"Either way I think I ought to patch it up for you. Come on." Harry led her to the bath room and took out the first aid kit from the cabinet. Guinevere jumped up to the sink. "Can you take your blazer off please?"

Guinevere slowly slipped out of it, wincing slightly. "Maybe it's a bit more worse than I thought." She said and Harry gave her a pointed look and took her hand gently in his. "What a fucking mess…" She said to herself, glancing briefly into the living room. Her jaw tightened as Harry unbuttoned her cuff and rolled the sleeve up. She watched him as he took a deep breath in through his mouth and out his nose.

"It's a shame, this was a very nice material." Guinevere smirked as he tightened the cuff above her elbow and held her arm up to clean the wound.

Harry was more gentle than he normally would have been with himself. Not gentle because he didn't think she couldn't take it, but because it took him just the slightest bit longer. Now Harry wouldn't consciously admit to wasting time just so he could touch her longer, but god be damned if that wasn't what he was doing.

After cleaning the wound Harry began to slowly wrap it with a bandage. All the while trying to concentrate on the wound instead of the look she was giving him. A look of subtle calmness, and a bit of something he'd never seen before from the little time he'd spent with her.

"You are quite good at this." She said.

"Yes well, lots of practice." Harry replied and taped the bandage to itself to hold in place. He glanced at her and saw a curious look on her face, as she peered at his hair. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing, I just thought I saw a gray hair." She responded, straight-faced.

"You did not." Harry glanced into the mirror quickly before realizing she was fucking with him, "You fucking cheeky—I should have let you bleed to death." And he left the room in a huff with Guinevere heartily laughing behind him.

* * *

Quickly Harry and Guinevere packed and left the safe house without any sleep to guide them to Paris. Guinevere drove again and Harry felt like she didn't trust him behind the wheel. But if he was being honest she was a very good driver. They drove through the French countryside as the sun was setting. Two hours to Paris.

"So when we arrive to investigate the Louvre, our cover story is what exactly?" Harry asked, his mind thinking out loud.

Guinevere was silent for a long while before she spoke. "Honeymoon."

"No, too obvious. Bother and sister." Harry said and Guinevere laughed out loud. "What?"

"Come on…" She glanced at him but Harry didn't seem to understand, "We look nothing alike Harry. But I agree, honeymoon might be too much."

"Foreign tourists, in a relationship—visiting from England." Guinevere nodded, and yawned.

"That sounds good." She said.

"Are you too tired? I can take the wheel if you need me to."

Guinevere shook her head. "No, it's alright. We're not too far."

* * *

 **Two hours later.**

Guinevere plopped down on the bed as soon as she and Harry walked through their hotel room door. They had reached Paris in a timely manner and had gotten a safe room hotel just one block from the Louvre, courtesy of none other than the Kingsman Secret Service.

Harry placed their bags on the other bed and began to unpack what they gathered as a disguise on the way. Harry had a dark brown sweater and khakis, which pained him to his core, while Guinevere already had a dress and flats she planned on wearing, along with a bottle of temporary brown hair dye.

"I'm just going to rest for an hour or so and I'll get to work." Guinevere said while Harry nodded and sat himself down on the bed. Just one hour.

* * *

Harry woke up to the morning light shining in through the window. His neck was stiff but other than that had gotten a pretty decent nights sleep considering the previous night's activities. He glanced around the room and realized Guinevere was not in the room. He sat up quickly and listened for her in the bathroom. Nothing.

He jumped up out of the bed and decided to get dressed in his ridiculous disguise-wear. When he was finished the front door opened and Guinevere walked in with a duffle bag, two coffees, and a bag of pastries. She smirk at him. He sighed a breath of relief quietly to himself.

"Good morning, darling." She winked at him and threw the bag of pastries at his chest. "I didn't know what you preferred so I got one of everything."

Harry smirked, glancing in the bag, "I'm a bit boring, croissants are my favorite." He said.

"Duly noted." She said and dropped the duffle bag to the table. She took a quick drink of her coffee and Harry walked up to her. He stared at her hair, now dark brown. "Do you like it?"

"No." He smirked. She chuckled.

"Yeah, me either. But it's only temporary, should only last a few days."

Harry nodded. _Good,_ he said to himself.

Guinevere unzipped the bag to reveal an arsenal. Several guns, grenades, knives, etc.

"Beautiful." Harry grabbed a gun and placed it into his jacket holster. Guinevere grabbed a gun herself and a small black tube. "What's that?"

She held it in her hand and flicked it, when she did this the tube became a long retracted baton. Harry nodded _._

"Oh yes, I remember that." Guinevere closed it and slipped it into the pocket of her dress.

Then she grabbed a large felt hat and adjusted it on her head. When she was satisfied with her reflection in the mirror she grabbed Harry's elbow and pulled him close to her, to see their reflection together.

"Three years." He said.

"Hmm?"

"That's how long we've been together."

"Oh, yes, that's right. My name is Miranda, yours is…Claude." Harry smirked at the name, no doubt it came to her from Claude Debussy, but he didn't press the subject.

"On holiday from Salford, England. I am an engineer with a great love of art with my girlfriend of three years, Miranda."

"Who is a masters student working for her degree in classical composition at University in London."

"Believable, relatable…ordinary." Harry said in summation.

They both looked in the mirror, with Guinevere's arm around his elbow they looked like a couple. An attractive, happy couple on holiday. Harry almost felt like smiling.

"Right, let's get going shall we? The Louvre opens in ten minutes." Guinevere said.

* * *

Harry and Guinevere arrived at the Louvre just as it opened. They began their walk around, creating mindless conversation about the paintings and sculptures while really scanning every single person in each gallery. No one seemed particularly suspicious and it was rather slow for a Friday morning. Harry was not relieved though, he wanted to get this finished as soon as efficiently possible. He hated these "kill or be killed" sort of situations. Though he had to say, it was nice not being the only one in this situation. But on the other side of even that, Harry felt more stressed. He knew Guinevere could handle herself—that much was overtly apparent—but he would never forgive himself if something were to happen to her that he could have prevented. Working partners is risky, which is why Harry preferred to work alone as often as the missions would allow it.

They had been walking around for about two hours when Harry suddenly felt Guinevere's hand place itself in the nook of his arm. He glanced at her to see she was not looking at him, in fact she was observing a painting on the wall with much intensity. It was a painting by Vermeer titled "The Astronomer." Harry bend his elbow so her hand could rest more comfortably on his arm and joined her in admiring the piece.

"Sixteen sixty-eight…" She said, reading the year of its creation.

"I think this is one of the pieces stolen by the Nazis, for obvious reasons. I'm glad its back where it belongs." Guinevere nodded in agreement. Slowly she began to walk again, with her hand still on Harry's arm.

They had walked through nearly the entire museum, even lingered around the "Mona Lisa" just in case Rene used the crowd as cover. But the museum was completely empty of suspicious activity.

As they walked out of the Louvre Guinevere sighed.

"We should come back again at 4 and check again, Jenny will be in by then and maybe we can get access to the security tapes." Harry nodded, agreeing. Guinevere checked her watch and sighed again. Harry could tell she was beyond disappointed, especially when she sat on a bench in a huff of frustration. "I can't wait until we get this fucker."

Harry slowly sat next to her, "In due time." He said, trying to make her feel the slightest be better.

"We're sitting ducks, Harry."

Harry agreed, looking around the area around them, the street, the park, the tourists. He was about to turn back toward Guinevere when he spotted a man just a block down walking toward them, in a large and bulky trench coat.

"Miranda, darling, come here." Harry stood and held his hand out. Guinevere perked up at her cover name and grabbed his hand. Harry pulled her into a twirling hug, where he ended up with his back to the man. "Look over my shoulder at the man in the trench coat walking our way."

"There's something under it." She whispered, "He's getting closer, we have to go-there's too many people."

Harry pulled out of the hug and held her hand, tugging her away from the road and into the open area in the Louvre's courtyard. The man in the trench coat slowed his pace and followed them.

Guinevere glanced behind and the man was gaining on them, less than five yards.

"Fuck." She looked back again to see the man open his trench coat and strapped around his stomach was a bomb, not a big bomb—but a bomb nonetheless. "Harry."

Harry turned and looked as well, stopping their pace. "Fuck."

The man smiled sickly and stepped closer to them, now two yards.

"Rene sends his regards to the happy couple." And without a second to pass he pushed the button. Guinevere quickly turned and pulled Harry with her but before they could get far enough away the bomb blast knocked both of them to the ground along with glass shards from the windows of the Louvre. Harry heard a ringing in his ears as he reached out to find Guinevere. She was laying on the ground several feet from him, struggling to stand.

Harry army crawled over to her and helped her up amidst the dust and smoke. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Harry pulled Guinevere into his chest and they both ran away as quickly as they could.


	9. Chapter 9: Alone, Together

Harry's ears rang, a sharp and endless tone that nearly deafened him in between the quick moment the bomb was detonated to their sighs of relief when they stepped into the back door of their hotel undetected. Guinevere stood beside him in the elevator, completely covered in dust and a stream of blood fell from her temple. Their clothing was a mess, their hair ruffled and dusty— _they_ were a mess. And for a moment Harry felt mildly guilty about the residue they would leave behind in the elevator. But given their circumstances he couldn't imagine the hotel staff being too upset.

As the two stood quietly in the elevator, going up thirty floors to the top, they did not look at one another directly. Only briefly did their eyes connect through the mirrored elevator door, and after that moment they both looked down. The moment was a bit too much for either of them to speak.

Suddenly the elevator slowed and the door dinged open. An older French woman, in her mid-80s it seemed, shuffled in. Harry politely stepped aside to give her more room and asked, "What floor?" Or more appropriately, "Quel étage?"

"Vingt sept." She replied, her big green eyes magnified by her massive spectacles. From what Harry deduced she either did not recognize his and Guinevere's condition or simply did not care. Either way Harry pressed the button and the doors shut again.

For the next few moments a thought began to weigh on Harry. The bomb. This was more than he had ever expected. First the men surprising them at the supposed "safe house" and now potentially fatal bombs? While he had dealt with bombs on missions before, this did not seem like the last stroke of a mad man's plan. If anything this seemed like the first stroke, the first key in the prelude of a very, very long song. A song both he and Guinevere were a part of now. Suddenly the elevator dinged open and Harry jumped from his thoughts. What a disaster they were building for themselves.

The old woman stepped off the elevator and left with a soft wave. Three more floors of silence and the two agents slowly walked from the elevator and stepped into their shared room. But they both paused at the entrance when they spotted a man sitting at the table with his back to the door. When the door shut behind them the man turned around and Harry let out a massive sigh of relief. It was James, or more precisely Lancelot.

"My god, you scared the living shit out of us." Harry said. James smiled and stepped over to them.

"I scared you? The two of you look like you just walked out of a war zone." James smirked at Harry then his eyes fell on Guinevere who walked past the two to the restroom for some towels. She threw one at Harry and rubbed her face with her own.

"Hello, you must be Guinevere." James said, that classic smirk on his lips. Guinevere nodded and smiled, shaking his hand with a limp grip.

"Hello, yes, very nice to make your acquaintance…"

"Lancelot." He shook her hand and she got that silly little grin on her face that Harry began to recognize as her "of course" grin.

"Right. Well nice to meet you. If you don't mind I've just had a bomb detonate in my face and I need to wash up a bit and maybe give myself some stitches…" Guinevere nodded at James and Harry and walked back into the bathroom, this time shutting the door behind her.

James turned back to Harry and gave him a certain look that Harry despised.

"Merlin wasn't kidding, even covered in dirt and blood she could ask me for my entire life savings and I'd give it to her without batting an eye." Harry rolled his eyes and began to pat the dust from his jumper.

"Any news, Lancelot? Or am I to interpret this meeting as social?" James smirked and picked up a suitcase.

"First order of business, three new suits."

"Oh, thank god." Harry sighed and stared longingly at the case as if there was whole roasted turkey in there and he hadn't eaten in days.

"You're very welcome. Now second, and last order, Arthur wanted to deliver this message personally but deemed the risk far too high, therefore delegating it to me, as per usual." James muttered the last bit as he reached into a brief case and took out a folder to slide across the table to Harry.

He picked it up as he dabbed the blood from his ear and opened it.

"Teshigahara sent a message to the Kingsman?" Harry asked.

James nodded, "Plus the Monaco Secret Service, IRA, MI6, the Italian Mafia, CIA, FBI—you name it." James pulled another folder out and slid it over as well. "This man, who ever the fuck he is, is threatening the top ranked agents and members of Europe and America's finest. And he has been successful, up until now. Do you remember when Arno Depucito was found washed up in the Mediterranean? Or when Timothy Donovan was found dead in a gang related shooting in New York last year? These are not simple coincidences."

"Teshigahara is trying to wipe us out." Harry sighed, he knew this was bigger than the two of them. "But for what reason?" He flipped through the file and found a message correspondence between Teshigahara and Arthur.

"His plans, and as ridiculous and dramatic as they are, are indicative of what just happened earlier today. He plans to blow up every major art and historical museum from here to California. Civilian casualties aside, he has a plan of pure chaos." Harry listened to James as he read through the correspondence. He stopped at a sentence that gave him great pause. He read it over and over again but he didn't want to face the truth of it. James noticed Harry staring at a certain page, and continued: "As you can see Teshigahara is willing to forfeit his plan if we give him Princess Guinevere."

Suddenly Guinevere came from the bathroom and sat down next to James.

"Certainly we're not negotiating with this lunatic." Harry said, in hopes that Arthur had his head on correctly today. Harry glanced for a moment at Guinevere who wore an expressionless look on her face as she stared at the table, her hair now wet with streaks of blonde appearing through the brown hair dye.

"Oh of course not. Arthur is not interested in negotiation or losing such a great agent—even if she is from the MSS." James winked at Guinevere and Harry could have sworn he saw her cheeks fall the slightest bit pink as she glanced away from him quickly. Of course the young and handsome new Lancelot was flirting with Guinevere, the literary irony could be cut with a sword the size of Excalibur and it would not penetrate.

Harry did not know why he suddenly felt jealous of this reaction, maybe his was confusing his thoughts about their situation and the continued to struggle with the "kill or be killed" ridiculousness that he hated. "Arthur wants you and Guinevere here to use your provided resources and get to Teshigahara before he strikes again. In this case the last remaining obstacle in his way is you, Galahad."

Guinevere glanced at Harry once more and he expected a smug look of "I told you so" but it wasn't there. What was there, across those blue eyes was a faint look of fear. But it was gone in an instant. If Harry knew any better he would have mistaken the brief expression of emotion for something trivial, perhaps she was remembering something she'd forgotten, or thought she'd seen a ghost behind him, any number of ridiculous scenarios Harry could attribute to that small fear—anything except for what really caused it.

She was afraid. She hardly knew him, he hardly knew her, but they were afraid for each other. They had Lancelot, but he really wasn't involved past being a minor resource at the moment. It was Harry and Guinevere, alone together.

* * *

 **So sorry for the lateness and the shortness but I hope you like it all the same! Please let me know what you think! I love reading your reviews!**


	10. Chapter 10: Earl Gray Intelligence

**Hi guys! First thing is I want to thank all of you who have reviewed! It really motivates me to keep going! Second, this chapter is a little different, I really wanted to try and explore Guinevere's POV for most of this chapter. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

The next morning.

Guinevere woke slowly, tiredly, to the sound of distant sirens. It was 4:30 am, far too early to be awake, but currently her situation called for cloudy with a lack of sleep until further notice.

She struggled to sit up, the blood from her wound the day before had dried to the pillow, causing pain when she moved. Sucking in a breath she slowly peeled her skin from the pillow and sat up. Great, she thought, more stitches—another scar. The sirens faded out and for a moment she thought she heard a melody in its echoes. But that could just be her delirium from blood loss. Which was very likely.

After a moment of silence to herself she crawled out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower. France this time of year was very brisk, so Guinevere welcomed the warm streams that flowed from the ceiling mounted shower head. She fully examined the damages in scrapes and bruises on her skin and was pleasantly surprised.

Guinevere had never been so close to a bomb detonation so she really didn't have a clue what to expect as far as injuries went. Bruises: twenty-five, scrapes: twelve including the gash on her temple. Not too bad. She watched the brown dye from her hair fall down her body and into the drain until the water ran clear. So much for a disguise.

When she was finished showering she dried herself off and began to dress herself, careful to miss the most sensitive bruises. She dressed in simple gray wool trousers, white Dolce & Gabbana dress shirt, and a black blazer. She re-dressed the cut on her arm that Harry had patched up for her the day before. The cut was sealed but still needed a new bandage, and it should heal nicely over the next couple days.

Guinevere sighed, sitting fully dressed in the bathroom, staring at the scrapes on her hands and arms. She couldn't get the image of that man out of her head. The suicide bomber. Who he was and what Rene Teshigahara did to make that man do what he did. She could only imagine how angry Rene must have been when he found out his plan was not successful. Imagining it brought a smirk and a small chuckle, if however superficial. She suspected the next several days to find simple pleasures in the small stuff. What she and Harry were dealing with was no walk in the park, to say the least.

Guinevere quietly stepped out of the bathroom and situated herself at the desk by the window. From her brief case she took out a notebook and a tablet and began her research. She had never used a touch screen tablet before, as it was a gift from the Kingsman, but she found it quite convoluted in its capabilities. She preferred simple things that did what they were designed for, not one things attempting to do everything. Nevertheless she used it to explore latest news reports from yesterday and any information concerning the Louvre. She did spot a private event happening that evening, it would be the perfect time to meet up with her contact, Jenny, and let her know what was going on. And in turn, any information Jenny had on Rene.

After Guinevere secured two tickets for her and Harry she glanced over in the direction of his bed and saw his back, quietly resting quietly under the sheets. She felt like she did not know this man very well, at least not well enough to share a hotel room with him, even if it was a 700 square foot one. But at the same time she knew almost everything there was to know about him—on paper at least.

She knew where he went to university, what he studied, where he lived, what type of car he owned, etcetera. To her, on paper Harry was without a doubt the most boring Englishman she'd ever met. But when she had dug a little deeper she discovered his involvement with the Kingsman. When she discovered this, things became different. Of course when he surprised her in Berlin he had fought with mastery and skill, he nearly beat her. Guinevere would never tell him that, it would go way too far to his head. She knew there had to be something deeper about this man.

To her, she knew almost everything about Harry Hart. But what she didn't know was him. Who he really was. Over the past several days the Kingsman agent had made quite the impression on her. She was actually growing very fond of him, much to her surprise.

And right this moment, watching him sleep from across the room Guinevere felt something inside her that was akin to...attraction.

She sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing them. "Hope that feeling goes away." She said quietly to herself.

The sun was just rising and she checked her clock. Six am. She jumped up quickly and practically ran out of the room to the cafe down the road.

* * *

Guinevere stood in line at the cafe, pondering what she should get. Espresso was always a safe way to go for her. Then she thought about Harry; butter croissant and… _what type of tea could possibly be his favorite?_ She asked herself.

She approached the bar for her order and sighed.

"Doppio espresso, un croissant de beurre chaud, deux, et un thé Earl Gray, s'il vous plaît?" The barista nodded and got onto her order.

* * *

Guinevere struggled with sliding the keycard through the scanner on their door, juggling the drinks and pastries. She eventually grabbed the top of the card with her teeth and inserted it into the reader that way and opened the door with her elbow. When she walked in Harry was still asleep so she quietly sat herself at the table across the room and began to read through the local paper sipping her espresso. Suddenly a droplet of blood fell onto the paper from her temple.

"Merde." She muttered and ran to the bathroom to fix her stitching. When she returned she spotted Harry walking into the second bathroom. She went back to reading the paper. Several minutes passed before Harry walked out of the bathroom. When he did Guinevere glanced at him for second, then glanced again. He was wearing a new suit and his Cutler and Gross glasses. His hair in perfect place. She must've looked like she was gawking so she quickly averted her eyes back to the paper.

"I have a surprise for you." She said.

"Is that so? What might that be, pray tell?" Harry sat at the table across from her and she slid the tea and butter croissant to him. Guinevere watched as he looked at it for a moment and looked back up to her, "I need to take you on all my missions." He bit into his butter croissant and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Guinevere chuckled. He went for the tea and paused, "Earl Gray?"

Guinevere glanced up worriedly, "Are you not a fan?"

"No, in fact, Earl Gray is my favorite. I prefer it over an English Breakfast blend any day. How did you know?" She smirked.

"I know everything, Harry." And she focused back on the paper.

* * *

That evening Guinevere and Harry walked into the Louvre. Harry wore his favorite pen stripe suit along with his umbrella at his side and Guinevere wore a medium length, elegant black Chanel dress. One of her most favorite dresses.

When they walked through the lobby Guinevere began to watch several people, anyone that seemed like they might be hiding something. Harry left for a moment for the bar and returned with two drinks.

Brandy for him, old-fashioned for her.

"How did you know my favorite drink was an old-fashioned?" Guinevere smirked.

"Oh darling, because I know everything." He smirked right back at her and began to mingle. Guinevere watched him as he walked away, imagining what it would be like to punch him again. But she digressed, and took a sip of the whiskey.

After a while of mindless mingling Guinevere found Jenny. When they approached each other they simply nodded in greeting.

"Did you receive my message?"

Jenny nodded, taking a sip of her champagne. "I put all the footage from the last week on this drive, like you asked."

Guinevere took it and slipped it into her pocket. "You're a saint, darling. Harry and I are going to do whatever we can to keep that lunatic from blowing this place up."

"Good, I can't thank you enough for this you know." Guinevere nodded and took another sip of her drink. Jenny held her glass out and clinked it with hers, "Here's to you, Princess."

Guinevere rolled her eyes but smiled gently either way.

"Now go, too much longer and it'll be suspicious, we don't know who's here." Jenny nodded anxiously and nervously stuttered away.

Guinevere stood off the side, by the bathrooms and watched the people around her. Some were French socialites, a few celebrities, other patrons of the museum—your typical private event crowd of the Musée du Louvre. She sighed, hoping quietly to herself that whatever was on this hard drive was the key to figuring out Teshigahara's plan.

Suddenly Guinevere spotted Harry, chatting happily with someone. Guinevere could not see who it was because someone was blocking them. She watched Harry smile and suddenly felt a tad weak in the knees. But then scolded herself, sex was not a priority at the moment.

Guinevere took her last sip as the person in question was revealed. It was Jenny. Guinevere narrowed her eyes and watched her as she interacted with Harry. Jenny held her glass in her hand lazily as she chatted with Harry. Guinevere rolled her eyes and looked around more.

But then out of the corner of her eye she saw Jenny rest her hand on Harry's arm.

Guinevere quickly averted her attention back just in time to see Jenny whisper something into Harry's ear and laugh heartily. Harry in turn also laughed.

And then without even realizing it, the glass that once held her drink was crushed into shards in her hand.

"Fuck." She muttered and walked as quickly as she could to the bathroom without drawing attention to herself.

She threw the shards into the trash and began to run her hand under cold water.

"Goddamnit." She cursed at herself. How could she be so stupid, how could she have shown such a lack of control?

Guinevere watched the blood fall from her hand, the red mixing with the water down the drain just like her hair dye earlier this morning. Guinevere watched the blood and remembered the bomb and Rene and suddenly her emotions took the better of her and she let of a soft sob. She fell to her knees slowly, her arm still in the sink.

People where dying because of her. That poor man with the bomb, and whoever its reach had caught. Innocent agents in Europe and America had died because of her.

She tried to control her breathing and paused, what if she just went to Rene, what if she turned herself in? She would rather die than cause the death of another innocent person. Especially Harry, she had gotten him roped into this. Guinevere would never be able to forgive herself if Harry died because of her.

She thought of Rene, she thought of his face and how fantastic it would be to put a bullet in it.

Guinevere squeezed her injured hand and tried to imagine that pain all over her body. That's what giving herself over to Rene would be like, she told herself over and over. It would be utter hell, because she knew that he would not kill her at first, he did not want her dead. It would be pain upon every inch on her body.

No. She would not give up.

She squeezed again and let out a small grunt in pain. She stood up, her legs rickety and jello-like. She leaned against the sink and wiped her hand with a paper towel. After it was relatively clean she wrapped a clean paper towel over it as a make-shift bandage and held it in place.

Guinevere looked at herself in the mirror one last time and nodded, as though she was nodding in encouragement to herself. Then she walked out of the bathroom.

* * *

Harry felt like he had checked every single corner of the space looking for Guinevere. Her curator friend would not leave him alone and Harry was beginning to develop the sinking feeling of trouble, doubled with annoyance.

Suddenly he spotted her stepping out of the bathroom and made a bee-line toward her.

"Did you gather what you needed?" He asked.

"Yes." She nodded, and hid her right hand behind her back. Harry glanced at it but made no fuss.

"Fantastic, lets get a move on then shall we?"

Guinevere nodded and followed him out the door. Harry noticed she was uncharacteristically quiet as they left the Louvre. And as they walked outside it began to rain gently. Guinevere looked up to the cloudy sky as Harry opened his umbrella gesturing for her to step beneath it. Guinevere all but rolled her eyes and stepped beneath it.

"Did something happen in there that you aren't telling me?" Guinevere shook her head and scratched her cheek with her right hand and Harry spotted the paper towel on her hand. "What happened to your palm?"

"Nothing." She said coldly, looking out into the street very quickly becoming iridescent with the rain. Harry watched as her expression hardened and couldn't help but relate to it. Everything was silent and all they could hear was the rain pelting the sidewalk. They stood still, watching the rain. "We have a long night ahead of us, Galahad."

Harry nodded, and a slight confusion crossed him. She had referred to him by his code name. Why had she done that? He was overwhelmed at the moment with his thoughts. Something wasn't right. Though he could be sensible and equate it to their predicament, but he couldn't be so sure.

"Then let us get started, shall we?" Harry held out his elbow and Guinevere paused for several moments before slipping her hand around it. Suddenly Guinevere sucked in a breath and sighed. She gripped his elbow tightly, protectively, and took the first step down the sidewalk to their hotel.


	11. Chapter 11: Musee du Ka-Boom

When they reached the hotel Harry watched Guinevere as she threw her coat and the flash drive on the table and made a straight line to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Harry narrowed his eyes and waited for a moment. Harry would have never pegged this woman as easily temperamental. She was too smart to let little things put her off, whatever little thing may have set her off in the first place.

After a while Guinevere exited the bathroom, now a bandage fitted to her palm. She sat at the table and pulled the laptop out. She plugged the drive in and queued up all the videos. Which was somewhere around 100-200 hours of footage from multiple cameras.

"I'll make some coffee then." Harry said as Guinevere began watching.

Several hours had passed, well into the morning and Harry and Guinevere had begun shifts, switching every hour.

It was 6 am and Guinevere was sitting quietly on her bed watching the laptop screen and chugging coffee. Harry slept in the other bed, still in his suit. Guinevere hoped they weren't wasting their time, but Rene had to be on one of these tapes. He had to be.

Around four pm Harry woke up with a grunt. He struggled to sit up and looked at his watch.

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" He asked moving from his bed to Guinevere's, glancing at the screen.

"You looked far too comfortable for me to bother you. Besides, I don't need much sleep." Guinevere said, ironically yawning through half the sentence. Harry grabbed the laptop and sat against the head board. Harry watched her out of the corner of his eye as she situated herself onto a pillow and closed her eyes. "Wake me in an hour."

Harry nodded and tiredly watched the footage. "You know I could send a bit of this footage to Merlin, another pair of eyes would do us some good?" Guinevere nodded tiredly.

"Sounds good Harry."

* * *

Harry let Guinevere sleep for a few more hours than she said. But he and Merlin had gotten through several hours of footage. At 8 pm Harry had finally found something. He pushed Guinevere's shoulder, nudging her awake.

"Guinevere, wake up." She jumped and sat up.

"Fuck, Harry." She rubbed her eyes and glared at him angrily. "What?"

"Look at this. This is just before closing time." Harry rewound some of the footage and zoomed in. Guinevere watched as a bald man sat on a bench in front of a de Kooning painting. Slowly, stealthily he pulled a small, orange sized case from his jacket pocket and stuck it on the underside of the bench.

"Holy—shit." Guinevere sat up fully and leaned against Harry to gain a better view of the screen. "Did you see anything else like this?"

Harry clinched his jaw and sucked in a breath, losing his thoughts for a moment as she touched him.

"Um, yes. Merlin found two separate shots in galleries P5 and P12, as well as the cafe. Placed during open and closed hours."

"They're rigging the whole museum." She said quietly, seemingly unfazed by their contact. Suddenly she stood and began to slip her jacket on.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, watching her as she picked through her bag.

"Where do you think? I'm going to the museum after it closes to diffuse those bombs." Harry stood up quickly.

"Do you think this is the smartest idea Guinevere? So hastily? We don't even have a plan." Harry said, pleading with her lack of preparedness.

"Then let's make one. I'm not here to fuck around Harry." Guinevere began to pack her backpack with essentials. "Rene is going to get to us before we get to him if we don't try to get ahead. Right now he doesn't know we have this information, we have to get the upper hand."

Harry stood and looked at the image of Teshigahara on the screen. "If these bombs are hidden throughout the museum and if we don't get caught, how do you plan on getting out unscathed? Or alive at all for that matter? We need to establish a stance, come at them from a fair and high stand point." Guinevere smirked.

"A Kingsman always counts on a fair fight. You are so naive—what if you fight someone like me again? Because I guarantee you Rene's men will not fight clean."

"I assure you I can handle myself." Harry struggled to gather his breath, a fight was definitely not what they need in that moment.

"Can you? Because our first two experiences together beg to differ." She said curtly. Harry rolled his eyes. What was she on to?

"Kingsman agents are trained to handle every situation that opposes them. Even plucky little French girls who think they're spies." Guinevere tilted her head and clinched her jaw. Harry almost regretted the insult as he said it, almost.

Guinevere eyed him, for a very long time. Honestly her gaze scared him a bit. And Harry briefly wondered if she was going to punch him in the face.

"You're right. You're a dedicated Kingsman agent, and I'm just a plucky French girl working when she can for her country. You are…the better agent." Harry narrowed his eyes as well, "But I have very little to live for, and I am willing to die for what I believe in. Rene Teshigahara ruined my life, and I will kill him." She said gravely. "You can either come with me and defuse these bombs or sit here on your shiny little ass while I do so by myself."

They stared at each other for several moments before Harry conceded.

"Fine, what do you need me to do?" Guinevere breathed in, relieved.

"Inventory bullets in this bag. And we'll need a few tools; pliers, needle nose, tweezers, and the like." Guinevere said and Harry nodded, getting to work. Guinevere watched him for a moment and smirked, grabbing a pair of gloves and shoved them into her pocket. Harry looked at her then.

"Guinevere…" Harry paused.

"What?"

"A Kingsman only condones the risking of a life to save another, I won't let you go alone."

Guinevere looked down at the pliers in her hands and sighed, a gentle smirk on her face. "I know."

* * *

Harry watched Guinevere on the phone, trying to read her expression. She was speaking with Jenny, her curator friend. So far Harry could interpret her expression as mild frustration mixed with annoyance.

Guinevere suddenly hung up the phone and threw it onto the table.

"She can't get us in. Fuck." Guinevere rubbed her face with her hands and sighed. "We'll have to break in."

Harry smirked. There we go.

"Then let's break into the Louvre." Harry smiled as Guinevere eyed him. Their terms were settled.

* * *

Guinevere knelt at the basement entrance and Harry stood watch. Less than ten seconds had passed and Guinevere opened the door.

"My word, you picked that lock in less than ten seconds?"

"You're acting like its hard." Guinevere winked at him as she shut the door behind her. "Alright, your man with us?"

Harry clicked his glasses, "Merlin?"

 _"Here, Galahad."_

"Are you close to breaking into the security feeds?" Harry asked.

 _"Thirty seconds."_

"Thirty seconds." Harry told Guinevere as she took a peak through the basement entrance. She gave him a thumbs up.

"Jenny said at night there's only three guards. Which isn't much trouble at all."

"Very good." Harry glanced at his watch.

 _"Alright, camera feeds are now subdued. You are now both invisible."_ Merlin said.

Harry gave her a thumbs up and they slowly walked out of the basement.

Merlin piped into Harry's ear, _"One guard on level three, the other two are in the control room, they shouldn't be a problem."_

"Fantastic. Thank you Merlin." Harry watched as Guinevere felt beneath one bench and paused. She plucked a bomb from underneath and sighed.

"One down." She dropped it into her bag. Harry himself felt beneath another and found another. This was going to be a long process.

Harry and Guinevere walked through the halls of the Louvre—the quiet, dimly lit halls. Harry mildly wondered if he would ever get a chance again to walk through these halls like this. Quiet and calm.

They were picking up bombs in every gallery. Between the two of them they had at least twenty bombs each.

Guinevere glanced at a painting on one of the walls in the modern gallery and Harry glanced at it as well. It was a de Kooning piece. He'd never really cared too much for abstract expressionism but he could respect it all the same. The way Guinevere looked at art though, could make him respect anything.

"I read about de Kooning in school. He once said _'Flesh is the reason oil paint was invented.'_ And I loved that. My father owned one of his painting but I never got to look at it."

Harry pondered for a moment on what she said. 'Flesh is the reason oil paint was invented.' That had to be one of the most sensual sentences he'd ever heard. And it made sense. Flesh was oil, bodies where painted—it only made sense. It looked more real. And in that moment Harry looked at Guinevere and he wanted to touch her. Just to feel the flesh of her arm, or maybe her cheek, so he could see himself if flesh was like oil paint.

Guinevere looked at him and smiled gently. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so distracted."

 _"I agree."_ Merlin said into his ear and Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, it's quite alright." Harry said, walked down the hall with her, "This is an experience unlike any other."

Guinevere's hand suddenly went up, signaling him to stop. She knelt down next to the entrance of a gallery and listened. Harry knelt down next to her.

"Can Merlin see what's in that gallery?" Guinevere asked.

"Merlin?"

 _"My feed is blank, I'm not picking anything up."_

"Well, well." Guinevere quickly turned and stood. Harry himself turned and saw a man with three other men flanked behind him. Harry recognized this man, the long hair—it was Rene Teshigahara. "You know I thought the little curator was joking…" He stepped forward very, very slowly, "When she told me the princess was going to break into my museum, and raid it for my bombs—and! With her little spy friend as well—I could have sworn she was pulling my leg!"

Harry glanced at Guinevere who wore a hard and unbroken expression of concentration. Rene stepped up to her and smiled sickly, yet she remained unfazed.

"Jenny told you we were here." Guinevere said, if only repeating it to herself. Suddenly in the gallery over a sharp tone echoed, the tone of a silenced gunshot. And a body hit the floor. "You didn't have to kill her." Guinevere said with her eyes closed.

"Oh yes I did. You see, Princess Guinevere, I did need to kill her because what else do I do with her—she is of no use to me anymore. She told me when you would come to me, and I needed nothing more. Nothing more." Rene leaned down, slipped his hands in his pockets and whispered in her ear something that was inaudible to Harry. Suddenly Guinevere got that fire in her eye and punched him across the jaw without a wind up. Pure, untested brut force.

Rene groaned and his men stepped forward but he put a hand up.

"You fucking bitch. You have been nothing but a pain in my ass ever since you were born." Rene said, spitting blood onto the marble floor.

"Sorry." She shrugged. She glanced at Harry and he nodded. On her signal, she needed more information out of him first, so Merlin to could hear. "I sure do hate to be an inconvenience to you and your brilliant plan."

Rene jumped and grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. Harry quickly jumped forward and two men grabbed him and held him back. But he let them, Guinevere had yet to give him the signal.

Guinevere choked but smirked.

Rene growled in her face, "France, New York, London, Los Angeles...KA—BOOM, sweetheart. And you'll be there with me, at my side while I destroy this world. Then I will skin your little Kingsman and make you watch."

"Jesus christ can you be more dramatic?" Guinevere choked out and smirked. Quickly she grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Rene let out a holler and Guinevere nodded to Harry who quickly punched the two men simultaneously. He grabbed ones lapels and smashed him into the other and they both fell to the ground in a heap.

More men came out of the galleries into the hall and Guinevere and Harry huddled back to back.

"I'm sorry Harry, I didn't know this was a trap."

"Fight now. Apologize later." Harry said and threw a punch at a man.

They both fought for several minutes, but were struggling. Rene was obviously no where to be found.

Harry had one in a headlock but faltered when he heard Guinevere groan and hit the floor. Then he was punched hard in the face and hit the floor with a hard thud. Another kicked his stomach and head and then it all went black.

* * *

 **Please let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12: Art Bare No Witness

The light through the window beat down on Harry's face. He struggled to open his eyes, but he felt the warmth from the sun on his face. When he opened his eyes he felt the pressure in his skull. He sighed and looked around the room. They were in a hotel room, different than their own. Large and luxurious. Great, more bloody hotel rooms.

Harry twisted his head around and noticed he was alone. Where was Guinevere? He looked down at his hands and noticed he was tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground. Fucking great.

He suddenly heard someone outside the door. Two men barged in lugging and body behind them. They threw it on the bed and cuffed their hands to the bannister of the bed and left.

It was Guinevere. She was bleeding from both her nostrils and had a pretty intense black eye. At least, from what he could see. She was still wearing clothes, thankfully. She was barefoot and bore bruises around her ankles and feet. And she was passed out. For a moment Harry wondered if she was dead. But her eyelashes stirred, if only slightly. Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. Thank god.

"Guinevere?" He said, his voice hoarse. She didn't move. "Guinevere wake up."

She didn't move. Harry was beginning to worry. He waited for several minutes and sighed. What could he do? He looked around but he didn't see anything that could possibly help him.

Another several minutes passed and Harry felt useless. Suddenly Guinevere sucked in a breath, but didn't wake up.

"Guinevere!" Harry said, "Come on, wake up darling." She shuttered in her sleep and jumped up, her chained arms stopped her pulled her back down. "Oh thank god."

"What the fuck?!" She yelled, her voice just as hoarse as his.

"Guinevere are you okay?" Harry asked, desperation in his voice.

She started breathing heavily, but her lungs heaved and wheezed painfully. She groaned in response and closed her eyes.

"Fuck…" She groaned again and pulled at the ties on her wrists, her elbow pulling into her chest in pain. Were her ribs broken?

"Guinevere, are you okay?" Harry asked with emphasis on each word. He noticed there was blood from her ears and bruising around her neck. "Guinevere, answer me please."

"Yes I'm fucking fine Harry." She cried, "…Are you fine?"

"Yes, I'm a little banged up but I'm fine."

"Good," she breathed out and looked at the ceiling. "Fuck Harry."

Harry looked around again, trying to ignore the thought of her neck and the bruises around it.

"What did they do to you?"

Guinevere turned her head and looked at him. "Nothing I can't handle, darling."

Harry breathed out and didn't believe her, that small smirk she gave him was filled with nothing but pain. But he nodded and let it go.

"We need to get out of here." Harry said, still looking around for a way out of his binds.

"We can't." Guinevere said quietly.

"What did you say?" Harry asked.

"I said we can't get out. We can't…" She started coughing, her chest wheezed and Harry knew immediately that she had at least one broken rib, but she was taking it like a champ.

"Guinevere, stop that this instant. I need you to buck up, young lady." Guinevere chuckled at his nickname and turned her whole body to face him.

"Then tell me, since you're so optimistic on getting out of those binds, and me out of these cuffs in the condition I'm in—out of this hotel room and—"

"Okay, okay, no need to get snarky." Harry said rolling his eyes. He started to wiggle the arms of the chair and noticed a slight looseness but he paused. "You can't think that way, Guinevere, we have to think positively. We'll get out of this—I'll get us out of this…somehow."

"Fine, I trust you." Harry clinched his jaw, he couldn't handle her sudden lack of interest now—not yet—not in this situation.

The front door was suddenly opened and Rene waltzed in with two men behind him. Harry sneered internally upon seeing him. This was ridiculous, this man was ridiculous.

Guinevere sighed as he walked past her on the bed but refused to look away from him. Harry wondered if what she was doing had an ulterior motive. If her pessimism was a double-agent of sorts.

Then Rene turned to Harry and smiled softly. "This is beautiful." He looked between Harry and Guinevere, "I had a feeling there was something between you two, and the look on your face when my men threw this one in here—priceless."

Harry bit his tongue but Guinevere did not.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" She asked, making Rene turn swiftly toward her but he didn't say anything regarding her question.

"You know I had half a mind to chain you two together and let you both loose, just to see what would happen." He laughed to himself, "Disaster I'm sure would ensue. Our Princess here was not made to be subtle, as I'm sure we're all aware, that's why I love her so much."

"Fuck off, Rene." Guinevere groaned but Rene ignored it. Rene continued but Harry zoned out, this man was completely insane, speaking incoherent nonsense. He had to figure out a way to get Guinevere and himself out of this mess.

"She—" he paused and placed a hand on the side on her waist and pushed, to which Guinevere clinched her jaw so hard Harry thought she might lose a tooth. She continued to wheeze. "Is a work of art. And works of art—true works of art bare no witness. They need no witness—If a trees falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really fall? If a beautiful woman dies in a hotel in Paris and no one is there to view it did it happen? Of course it did because we are left with the body. Just like our beautiful art museums around the world, absolute garbage…"

"Are you going to continue to entertain us with your soliloquy or may I interject?" Harry asked.

"By all means, Mr. Hart."

"It was Franz Kafka I believe who said: "You misinterpret everything, even the silence." Perhaps that applies in this situation. Guinevere is the silence we misinterpret, because she is far more than a beautiful woman. She is a strong and capable agent who could kill you in less than five seconds if she wanted to. Now tell me, Rene, you die in a hotel room in Paris, and you fall to floor and there's no one here to see, would anyone still care?"

Rene's eye twitched for a second before Guinevere kicked the back of his thigh and made him fall to the ground. Harry suddenly yanked the arm out of the chair and hit Rene across the face with it. The other two men went straight for him but he hit one just like he had Rene and Guinevere tripped the other with her leg.

Rene struggled to stand and quickly ran out of the room as Harry quickly untied himself. He continued to use the arm of the chair to knock one man out as three more entered the room.

One man ran over to Guinevere but she swiftly kicked him in the face and he fell to the ground. She yanked and pulled at her cuffs, making her wrists bleed but was still unable to free herself.

Harry grabbed a gun off on guy and shot the rest in the head.

The same man Guinevere kicked in the head began to crawl up the bed and grasped her legs, making it impossible to use them. She screamed and kicked and tried to wiggle her way away from the man. Then when the man's head was just between her knees she hoisted her hips up and wrapped her thighs around his head and promptly twisted until she head a crack. The man fell limp, lifeless, and she quickly kicked him off the bed.

Harry stood in the room staring at her. "Holy shit, you are magnificent." Guinevere smiled for the first time that day, Harry was completely blown away by her strength.

Then her smile fell, "Harry look out!"

A man came up behind Harry with a taser wand and shocked him in the neck. Harry dropped to the floor as he continued to taser him. Guinevere screamed and screamed and yanked at the cuffs until she broke the wooden bannister and ran for the man with all her strength. Harry watched hazily as she beat him to a pulp with the bannister she'd broken until the man was dead.

She knelt down next to Harry with a worried expression on her face.

"Harry, are you okay? Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Harry struggled to respond, his vocal capabilities inhibited, as well as his physicality. He tried to speak but it just came out in mumbles.

"Fuck." Guinevere fell to the ground, clutching her ribs. Harry thought he saw her crying, but that could have easily just been his tears.

Harry then felt his body being lifted and leant against Guinevere as she held him close.

"Come on, darling, help me out here. I just need you to walk a little." Harry breathed out, trying to ignore the searing pain in his neck and chest. But he began to walk with her, as best as he could. Why were they constantly being beat like this?

* * *

The next thing Harry recalled was waking up at night in their hotel room. The first thing he saw was James sitting at the table typing away on the laptop.

He heard a vague conversation between James and Guinevere but he couldn't see her anywhere. He was laying on a bed, his head on a pillow, turned toward James.

"We need a surprise attack, like we tried before—but more successful. No offense."

Guinevere chuckled, "It'll probably be a while before the both of us are ready for another fight." The next thing he felt was a sting on his neck. He twisted his head and saw her. She was sitting on the bed next to him, a small swatch of gauze in her hand. She was treating his wound. When she noticed his eyes opened she smiled softly. Her lip was busted, she had several bruises on her cheek bones and a nasty black eye but by god she was the most beautiful thing he thought he'd ever seen. Even if he hadn't be electrocuted her beauty would have been enough to mute him.

She placed the gauze on his neck again and taped it down.

"Would you like to sit up?" Harry nodded and began to sit himself up with a little help from Guinevere.

"How's…are you okay?" Harry asked quietly, afraid of the pain in his neck. Surprisingly it didn't hurt a whole lot.

"I'm okay. Two broken ribs, but nothing I haven't had before." Harry looked down and saw the bulk of the bandage around her chest. Harry nodded slowly and inspected his own bandage on his neck. She actually did a good job of patching him up. She placed her hand over his and held it there for a moment before pulling it down, "It's a burn so you won't want to irritate it too much."

"Right." Harry said and looked at her. God, she was beautiful. The light of the lamp illuminating the sharp curves of her face and softening them. Harry almost had half a mind to touch her, like he had wanted before.

"Excellent, you're awake Harry." James said from behind and Harry felt like a ton of bricks had just fallen on him. Was he crazy? James walked over and pulled a chair up to the bed. "I think it's best we lay low for now. I'll assist in information detail from now on so we can keep an eye on Teshigahara while you two gather your strength. In the meantime we're working on securing every museum Teshigahara told you about. Galahad, when you feel up to it, Arthur would like a word within the next day."

Harry nodded rubbed his face. At least he felt safer in this hotel room than the other. Guinevere still sat on the bed next to him, medical supplies littered the foot of it.

James nodded to Guinevere and grabbed her hand. "If you need anything I'm right next door."

"Thank you Lancelot." He kissed her knuckles and swiftly left the room. When the door was closed and muttered under her breath, "Twat."

Harry smiled to himself. Guinevere looked at him and sighed. Her eye was just slightly swollen shut. And he still wanted to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. But he just didn't have the strength.

Harry shifted himself and got in a more comfortable position and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Am I remembering correctly—you broke a man's neck with your thighs?" Harry asked, eyes still closed. Guinevere smirked at him.

"I think you were hallucinating, Harry." Harry smirked at her and opened his eyes.

"Funny, I don't remember drugs being involved." He pondered sarcastically. Guinevere shifted herself to a laying position, close to him.

"You were definitely out of it then." She said quietly, and slowly—hesitantly she reached her hand up and pushed back a few strands of hair from his forehead. Harry closed his eyes and nearly sighed at the contact. When he opened his eyes again Guinevere's were closed, her hand still up by his head.

Harry closed his eyes then, content.

* * *

 **Please let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13: Going Rogue

**A bit of a short one for you guys but I hope it's satisfying nonetheless!**

* * *

The next morning Harry woke up to Frank Sinatra.

 _"It had to be you…  
_ _I wandered around  
_ _and I finally found  
_ _the somebody who  
_ _could make me true…"_

He looked around the room and saw Guinevere standing, her hips swaying to the song as she examined a book in her hands. He watched her for several moments and noticed she was singing along quietly. Her hips swayed to the soft and melodic trumpet and she hummed.

 _"And could make me be blue…  
_ _and even be glad  
_ _just to be sad  
_ _thinking of you…"_

Harry watched her with a fondness he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. She was absolutely wonderful—magnificent like his outburst yesterday. She was incomparable. Her bare feet twisted softly on the rug, she twirled a piece of her blond hair between her index and middle finger, looking closely to the words in the book in her hand. Harry wondered if her ribs were feeling better, he hoped at least they were beginning to feel better.

 _"It had to be you…"_

The song ended and another Sinatra song started.

"Where did you get a record player?" Harry asked, sitting up slowly. Guinevere twisted her body around and smiled.

"I asked James to bring it over. I was surprised he did it; I kind of want to see what else he'd do if I ask." She chuckled to herself and sat on her bed across from him. James would serve himself on a silver platter if she asked him to, Harry thought to himself. But who was he kidding, he'd do it too. "I'm sorry I fell asleep in your bed last night. I was just so exhausted…"

"It's quite alright, Guinevere." Harry nodded and stood. She had brewed a pot of coffee and he poured himself a cup. "I have a question."

Guinevere looked up from her book with an expectant expression.

"Yes?"

"I like to pride myself in my hand to hand combat, and I always strive to improve myself."

"Your point?"

"Yesterday when you killed that man with your thighs." Harry paused, "Can you teach me how to do that?" Guinevere set her book down and looked at him with the most unreadable expression Harry's seen from her to date.

"Are you trying to get in between my legs, Harry?"

He smirked and pondered considerably; "Yes I am."

* * *

Later that day.

Harry slipped his glasses on and waited for Arthur. He dreaded this call but it had to be done.

 _"Galahad?"_ Harry looked out the window on the square their hotel overlooked. Harry was not thrilled by Arthur sounding particularly chipper.

"Yes, Arthur."

 _"You doing alright I gather?"_

"Yes I am. Guinevere got the grunt of it I'm afraid to say." Harry looked at the bathroom door with yearning. She was currently showering, or bathing, he didn't know which. Either way he wanted to be in there with her. God he need to screw his head back on.

 _"Terrible thing. But I do have good news, we're shipping you back to England, and Miss Kelly back to Monaco. Myself and Monsieur Jacques Renoir of Monaco Secret Service have come to the conclusion that this is an international affairs issue and have conceded to remove you both from Paris to prevent further threat."_

Harry paused for a moment, "How is that good news?"

 _"I'm sorry Galahad, it's too high of a risk to have two agents that have not been trained together for this type of threat."_

"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered to himself. "So who's going to stop this man?"

 _"That's tentative."_

"Oh, it's tentative. Arthur this man is insane and could literally strike at any moment. Taking away his number one target is only going to bring him out."

Harry had his hands wrapped around the back of a chair, his posture weak and tired, his knuckles white.

 _"We understand that and we're dealing with it…Lancelot will escort you and Guinevere to the airport tomorrow morning. No further questions."_

The line went dead and Harry slowly took his glasses off. The door opened from the bathroom and Guinevere looked at him curiously. She was wrapped in a towel and her hair, wet and messy dripped on her shoulders. Her bruises were clearing on her face to a light purple/brown. Harry looked away from her and out the window again. No, he would not stand for this.

"What did King Arthur have to say?" She asked, drying the ends of her hair with a hand towel. Harry was silent for a long time. "Harry?"

"We're off the case."

Guinevere stood still. "What?"

"Arthur took us off the case. We're flying out of Paris tomorrow morning."

"He has no right Harry—"

"He spoke with Jacques Renoir, they both concluded we are not fit partners to continue pursuit together." Harry fiddled with his glasses, Guinevere struggled to breath and grabbed her side.

"This is bullshit." She blatantly said. "We work just fine together, wonderfully actually." Harry looked at her and suddenly an idea came upon him. Or at least the start of one.

"How's the ribs?"

"They're fine, still broken obviously." She muttered. Harry stepped closer to her.

"Do you think if you double wrapped them you could have painless movement?"

Guinevere looked at him like he spoke gibberish.

"Well, I suppose moderately painless—what are you getting at Harry?"

"We're going for Teshigahara. Tonight." Guinevere's head shot up and she had the inklings of a smile.

"Do you think we can?"

"Do you think we can't?" Guinevere stood motionlessly in front of him and nodded her head.

"We need a plan." She smiled while she spoke, "And we need to find out where he'll be."

"Leave that to me." Harry said.

"And I'll give my weapons guy a call. A grenade launcher sounds fitting right now." Harry paused for just a moment. The moment itself was soft and airy. He looked at her with admiration and guised excitement. She grabbed her phone, still in her towel and slowly drying hair. They were doing this. They were going rogue.


	14. Chapter 14: She's a Kingsman

Guinevere was unable to secure a grenade launcher, much to her displeasure. They decided to go more discreet, which was the smartest option. Hand guns, knives, a baton for Guinevere, and Harry's umbrella.

Harry sat in his chair, adjusting the screws on his glasses when Guinevere called for him from the bathroom. He walked over and peeked around the doorway. She was standing in high waist pants and a bra, her hands holding the wrap.

"I'm not quite agile enough to wrap this around my ribs tight enough, can you help?" Harry sucked in a breath and nodded.

"Of course." Slowly he grabbed the wrap and a piece of fabric tape. He pressed the end of the wrap to her side and pulled it tightly around her ribs. There was a large bruise on her right ribcage, most likely where the broken ribs where. It was a nasty, dark shade of purple and made Harry confusingly emotional. He'd seen bruises before, why was this one different? He continued to wrap her ribs until he was finished. He taped the edge and felt its tightness. After being satisfied with it he nodded and looked at her for approval.

"I can hardly breathe but I think I can move pretty easily." She twisted her body slowly, Harry's hand instinctively went to her sides, in case she fell. Guinevere looked at him and smiled gently. "Thank you, Harry."

"Of course." He smiled softly back and suddenly realized the space between them to be quite small. His head filled with anxiety for the impending attack on Teshigahara, and the clouds filling his head from proximity and touch. Guinevere's breath became shallow, and Harry could feel it on his neck. For a brief moment Harry felt like he was going to kiss her. But how could he? In a moment like this? They were preparing for attack—but it was perfect, the perfect moment, what more could he ask for?

"Are you ready?" She asked in a hushed tone, her hands reaching up to his tie and straightening it—like she had in the hotel room the morning after they met.

"As I'll ever be." Harry said. He reached behind Guinevere and grabbed her shirt off the handle of the door. "You might need this though."

Guinevere smirked and took it from him. Harry quickly left the bathroom and almost collapsed on the bed. But he refrained.

Guinevere walked out of the bathroom and slowly slipped her jacket over her shoulders in a rigid and slow-like fashion. Harry picked up a small case and stepped up to her.

"Here, these are for you." She looked at the case in his hand and took it. She opened it and smiled.

"You're fucking shitting me."

Harry chuckled. "Put them on."

Guinevere slipped the glasses on and turned to look at herself in the mirror. She pushed them further up her nose and smiled in satisfaction.

"If you press the right edge it'll connect you to Merlin, press the left and it'll connect you to me." Harry said.

"Merlin?" She pressed the right edge and a small beep erupted in her ear.

 _"Good evening, Princess."_ She heard and smiled.

"Good evening, Merlin. It's a pleasure to meet you." Harry smiled and adjusted his watch.

 _"The pleasure's all mine."_

"I wish I could see what you look like." Guinevere pondered.

 _"Just imagine a Scottish Alfred Hitchcock in his twenties."_ Guinevere chuckled.

"Some how I can't really imagine that." Merlin chuckled into her ear.

"Merlin is taking special precaution and is going to be with us every step of the way." Harry said.

"Are you alright with committing some light treason, Merlin?" Guinevere asked.

Merlin laughed, _"I'd rather see the inside of a jail cell than see the death of two excellent agents."_

"Alright then." Guinevere smiled. "You ready, Galahad?"

Harry smirked and nodded his head. "After you."

* * *

Merlin assessed that Teshigahara was at an abandoned factory just outside of Paris in Orsay. Harry listened to Guinevere's shallow breathing as they drove through back roads to get there. And for a moment he wondered if she was up to this. But as they drove, Guinevere double and triple checked their guns with ridiculous ease in break down and rebuild. And he had yet to hear her complain about her injury.

It took a mere 40 minutes to reach the factory in Orsay. Harry parked their car just off the side of the road and they walked up to the factory, cautious of guards. But there were none. Which was odd. When the split to cover wider ground Harry watched Guinevere for a moment, as she leaned against a fence across the road with her gun in her hand. She looked…effortless. The glasses only ignited something inside him akin to camaraderie and wondered for a moment what it would be like if Guinevere was a Kingsman.

 _"Harry, you're staring."_ Merlin said into his ear and he rolled his eyes.

"Just observing." Harry retorted and looked at the factory. Guinevere peaked around the fence and pressed the corner of her glasses.

"We've got guards at the entrance, only two." Guinevere said and she crouched. "I'm going to track back around the building and get them from behind, Galahad cover me."

"Be careful." Harry said and waited for her to make her way around the building. When he spotted her again she quickly knocked one out with her baton and hit the other in the knee, making them fall to the ground. Harry ran over as Guinevere pulled the man by his hair and pushed him against the building.

"Please, please don't kill me." The guard begged.

"Don't be silly, I'm just going to knock you out." She rammed his head into the building and he fell to the ground in a heap. Harry nodded at her.

"You feeling alright?" He asked when she grabbed her side and breathed out heavily. She just nodded in response.

 _"Galahad, Guinevere—get ready. There are six guards inside, Teshigahara is in the far east corner of the building with two more guards."_ Merlin said and they both looked at each other.

"Remember, we need to take out as many as we can silently without tipping him off." Harry said, and Guinevere rolled her eyes.

"Yes I remember." She whispered, checking the silencer on her gun. "I'm ready."

Harry slowly opened the door and creeped into the building, gun first. He shot one guard in the back of the head and caught him as he fell back so he wouldn't make a noise as he fell. Guinevere spotted another and did the same. They made their way through the empty factory, hiding behind pallets of cardboard boxes and sandbags. Guinevere took out one more and Harry took out two.

 _"Great work agents, one more guard on the main floor, two more with Teshigahara."_

Suddenly a loud shot rang out and nearly got Guinevere in the back of the head.

"Merde! Galahad get down!" The man lunged at Guinevere and she quickly jumped out of his way and grabbed his arm. She used all her strength and threw him at the door to the room in the back just as two other guards ran out. They all fell to the ground in a heap. Harry ran over to Guinevere and pulled her back behind one of the pallets.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, taking a peak at the men standing up slowly. Teshigahara was no where in sight.

"Yes, yes I'm alright Harry, the moment I'm not you'll know, okay?" She said with haste and jumped out from behind the pallet. She shot one in the head as Harry ran out and attacked another. He punched one in the throat and dodged a punch from the other. One silent shot rang out and Harry knew Guinevere had gotten the other one and was alright. He shot another in the head and stomach, they fell to the ground—their gun skirted across the floor. Harry grabbed the other man in a chokehold and when the man began to lose consciousness Harry felt someone push his back. Harry and the man dropped to the ground several feet away as two loud shots rang out.

 _"Guinevere! Guinevere!"_ He heard Merlin yell then Harry dropped the man and turned around.

What he felt next was a blur, or something perhaps more clear but fast-paced and deafening. Guinevere stood where he was once standing, her hand clutching her stomach, and blood ran out from between her fingers.

Harry ran over and tried to grab her before she fell but she slipped through his fingers and onto the floor. A puddle of blood formed beneath her.

 _"Harry it was him, Teshigahara is armed—behind you."_ Harry spun around quickly and saw the man, as pathetic and sickly a human could get—standing without cover trying to reload the shotgun. Harry quickly fired and emptied his clip into the man's head. When he fell to the ground Harry turned back to Guinevere. He quickly took his jacket off and place it beneath her head and took his tie off and wrapped it around her waist, to get some pressure on the wounds. She had been shot twice in the stomach—there was blood everywhere.

"Harry I'm not okay." She sputtered out, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"I know, I know, darling—but you're going to be alright. I promise." Harry brushed hair from her face, sweat and blood littered her forehead in little droplets.

"Harry—it hurts." Harry clinched his jaw and began to panic. More than normal. He would have normally been completely cool in a situation like this but this was Guinevere.

"Merlin, are you there?"

 _"Yes I'm here, how extensive is the damage?"_

Harry sucked in a breath and pressed on her stomach still, "It's bad Merlin, she's losing a lot of blood."

 _"I'm calling dispatch, they'll be able to get someone to you in fifteen minutes."_

"That's too long!" He yelled, "She's bleeding out, Hamish!" Harry hardly called Merlin his real name, he never needed to—but now, in this moment, he needed to.

 _"They're on their way, you need to find some way to stop the bleeding or figure something else out."_ Merlin said.

"Harry…" Guinevere struggled to sit up but Harry pushed her down.

"You need to stay still, Guinevere, please." Harry began to rack his mind for some way to stop the blood but he could come up with anything.

"Harry, I—"

"Guinevere, please." Harry cried, "Wait—"

"It hurts, Harr…" Her eyes fluttered open and closed and Harry could feel her body begin to shake.

"Guinevere—I know, I know it hurts, but I need you to think—what's your blood type?" Her eyes closed and Harry shook her just a little, "Guinevere, your blood type!"

 _"Harry are you sure about this?"_ Merlin asked.

"O negative." She muttered.

"Oh thank god." Harry quickly took his belt off and ripped open the buckle and revealed a tube and a needle. Normally a Kingsman would use this for breathing underwater but it would work just fine in this instance. "Hamish—"

 _"Place the needle into your arm first and hold the tube above your heart—get a good stream of blood, then insert the other needle into her arm."_ Merlin said, anticipating his question. Harry did as told and quickly inserted the needle into her arm. Guinevere was completely passed out, but Harry hoped, by some God out there that this would work. _"Her pulse is shallow but its there. The ambulance is five minutes out."_

"Oh thank fuck." Harry leaned back, becoming slightly lightheaded. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, he replaced them again and sighed. "Why did she do that? Why did she jump in front of that bullet?" Harry asked out loud, not really expecting a response.

 _"She's a Kingsman, Harry. Loyal down to the grit of her teeth."_ Merlin said admirably. Harry smirked. The hand that gripped her arm, holding the needle in, gripped a little tighter. She was as loyal and brave as a Kingsman, but also as someone completely unique all the same.


	15. Chapter 15: Bravery

It had rained everyday since Guinevere was shot. Harry had hardly eaten since Guinevere was shot. Harry had not slept since Guinevere was shot. Harry had not left her side since she was shot. And the plan ride to England Harry nearly had a panic attack. He thought she was going to die and he was the reason. Stupid, stupid woman. How could he forgive himself if she died?

Guinevere had gone through four separate surgeries to repair the damage and remove the shrapnel from her stomach and side. Under the care of the Kingsman, Guinevere was in stable condition but unresponsive otherwise, for weeks. Harry sat by her bed side everyday, staring off into the marble floors for hours—he hardly knew the days from the nights, he was driving himself crazy.

After three weeks he forced himself to take a mission that took him to Berlin. It rained in Berlin everyday too.

Harry had first met Guinevere in Berlin. Though it was not a pleasant meeting, it was the first all the same. She had stolen the diamond and shown his ass a good kicking. She was the first woman to do so, and if he was completely honest—the first person to do so, so quickly. He remembered it fondly, in hindsight. And preferred to remember Guinevere in such a way, like she was back then. Brilliant, illusive, fast, strong, and beautiful.

Harry had a childhood crush on Grace Kelly, what man didn't really? And when he looked at her that first time, the way her cheeks dipped and her eye brows arched and those ridiculous blue eyes—he had to focus. He had to reimagine this attraction. If she didn't wake up…

If Guinevere didn't wake up…

On the plane ride back to England he fiddled with his watched and noticed a scuff on the face of it. A scuff he had never noticed before. A new blemish. Harry thought immediately to acquire a new watch once he reached HQ but then he paused.

Why? Why did he need to a new watch, when this one worked just fine—it was just imperfect. He rubbed his face and looked out the window. If she died he would never forgive himself.

First was Lee who sacrificed himself for Harry in 1997, now it was Guinevere. How could he be so foolish? Perhaps Harry is not as good of a spy as he thought he was. But Lee and Guinevere...now they were the real deal. They had what it took to be a spy.

Bravery.

Harry was not brave, not anymore. And especially not if Guinevere died, he was not brave enough to handle that reality.

* * *

The plane landed at Headquarters and Harry made his way to the infirmary wing. As he walked down the hall he loosened his tie and unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. He was exhausted but he wanted nothing more to see Guinevere, just to make sure she was still there. Still alive.

Harry reached the hall that held her room but stopped. Merlin stood outside her door and Harry nodded at him.

"How was Berlin?" Merlin asked.

"Uneventful." Harry responded and reached for the doorknob but Merlin stepped in his way.

"Harry…" Merlin spoke with distain and suddenly Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Before you go in—"

No. No. No. This can't be. No fucking way.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Harry said softly, stepping back, his vision nearly blurred and his ears started to ring. Merlin grabbed his arm before he fell and maneuvered him to lean on the adjacent wall. Of course. Of course she died. She was too injured, the broken ribs—the gun shots—fucking shit, how could Harry have been so fucking stupid.

She was gone and it was all his fault.


	16. Chapter 16: Tire and Ease

"She's gone, isn't she?" Harry said softly, stepping back, his vision nearly blurred and his ears started to ring. Merlin grabbed his arm before he fell and maneuvered him to lean on the adjacent wall. Of course. Of course she died. She was too injured, the broken ribs—the gun shots—fucking shit, how could Harry have been so fucking stupid.

She was gone and it was all his fault.

"Actually…" Merlin paused and looked down the hall and nodded at someone behind Harry. Between the ringing in his ears and his bated breath Harry heard small pats at the end of the hallway, and a metal clink, getting louder and louder—like bare feet on marble, and a crutch in between.

Harry swallowed and twisted his head to the direction of the sound.

"Oh my god." He muttered. "Guinevere?"

Guinevere slowly stepped up to him, leaning on one crutch. She was wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, her hair was tied to the back of her head and yet she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Guinevere was just taking a lap around the infirmary wing. Working out the kinks from her surgeries." Merlin said, smirking a ridiculous and ever-knowing smirk. The Scottish bastard.

"Still a bit stiff I'm afraid." She said smirking, at Merlin and Harry alike. Harry could hardly believe his eyes. She was alive and walking. She…was alive.

"Yes, well the surgeon said that should go away with time, for now back to bed." Merlin ordered playfully and opened the door to her room. She limped slowly into her room and Harry followed after several long moments. Merlin stood in the doorway and checked his watch, "Would you look at the time—Guinevere, Harry I'll see you both tomorrow."

Merlin nodded to the both of them and left, closing the door behind him. If you had held a gun to Merlin's head he couldn't have left any faster.

Harry swallowed and forced himself to look at Guinevere. And there she was. She walked toward her bed but paused and turned around to look at him. A look of content filled her eyes, he recognized the expression from the night not too long ago when she took care of the burn on his neck. They made eye contact for a moment before she looked down again.

Guinevere twisted rigidly and set her crutch against the side table and began to sit herself in bed. But as she tried to pull herself up she winced, and nearly fell.

Harry immediately rushed to her side and helped her on to the bed.

"Thank you." She said quietly, adjusting herself. Harry smiled softly. Say something you blithering fool.

"I—I can't tell you how happy I am to see you awake." He said, sitting himself in the chair at her bed side. The chair he'd occupied the last three weeks.

"I'm happy to be awake. Even if I am a bit sore." She smirked and Harry smiled at her. There was a silence in him then that he didn't know how to break out of but Guinevere continued, "Merlin said you were in Berlin?"

Harry nodded, "Yes. I was there debunking Soviet communication lines to North Korea. Quite…uneventful."

Guinevere chuckled gently and rolled her eyes, but settled into a soft smile. She looked so happy, Harry could hardly contain himself.

"Berlin was where we met. Do you remember?" She asked.

"Do I?" Harry gave her a look, "My testicles are still recovering."

Guinevere laughed and grabbed her side immediately from pain. But Harry oddly enough didn't feel too sorry for making her laugh.

"Don't make me laugh, I might pull a stitch." She said. "And there's plenty to pull."

"I would imagine after all the surgeries." Harry paused, "Are you feeling alright otherwise?"

"Other than feeling like I got shot in the stomach, I'm actually quite well. I must admit even better now that you're here." She said, and she paused again, as if she was struggling with her words, "Merlin told me you never left my side…" She said it as though it would be perceived as a question instead of a statement.

Harry re-adjusted himself in his seat and conceded, "I didn't, not for a second…"

Smiles, she was all smiles. "And you played music for me."

"Did Merlin tell you that?"

"No." She said shyly. "You always hear about people in comas who are partially aware of their surroundings. I could hear some things, though it mostly felt like a dream."

"How do you know it wasn't?"

"Well you played some songs I'd never heard before, that's how I knew."

Harry smirked, happy that at least something he did helped her. In the slightest way possible. Harry rested his elbow on the edge of her bed and sighed. Guinevere eyed him for a moment, curiously. Then Harry felt a hand on his arm, moving down to his hand.

Guinevere's soft and nimble fingers slipped into Harry's palm and squeezed. Harry stared at their hands as he gently held hers, careful not to squeeze too hard. He let out a heavy breath and then held that hand with both of his. He brought her hand up to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. Guinevere was alive and she was safe, he repeated to himself like a mantra. She was alive and she was safe.

Lightly, Harry brought her hand down to his lips and kissed it. In what little affection he would allow himself to exert, he struggled to hold in his happiness. He couldn't believe it, after so many weeks she was there, holding his hand, breathing and laughing.

He opened his eyes and saw that Guinevere's eyes were tearing up.

"Thank you, Guinevere." Harry said softly, not breaking eye contact with her. She smiled sadly and squeezed his hand.

"What ever for, Harry?" She said innocently.

"I'm not—I'm not going to let you brush this off…I cannot thank you enough for what you did—I…" Then he stopped, he couldn't tell her. Then he digressed. "You've known me for such little time and yet you saved my life. Why?"

"Harry, I just…" She again struggled with her words, "I knew that shot was going to either kill you or paralyze you and I felt that…you didn't deserve to die over something like that—over someone like me."

Harry sighed out and closed his eyes. He rested her fingers on his lips and kissed them again.

"I just wish there could have been another outcome, one that didn't consist of you in extensive care for a month." Harry said.

"I'd do it again."

Harry looked at her and tilted his head, "Why?"

"Because…" She paused, "You're a great spy, and a great man and I…" She paused and Harry hung on her words like his life depended on it. "And I am more expendable than you."

"That's a bloody lie and you know it, Guinevere."

She just smiled gently and touched the corner of his mouth, her fingertips brushing over traces of stubble coming in down his chin.

"And because I know you would do the same for me, Harry." She concluded.

At that Harry was mush in her hands. Complete and utter mush.

"Guinevere—"

"Shh." She said and pulled her hand from his hold. She adjusted herself again and shifted to the far edge of the bed, opening up the space next to her. "Come here, lay with me."

Harry looked at her like she was crazy, but only for a moment because he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do.

Harry slipped his blazer from his shoulders and loosened his tie even more and slowly, albeit a tad awkwardly, slipped into bed next to her. The bed that, certainly was too big for Guinevere, was definitely not fit for two people. But Guinevere leaned into him and Harry turned on his side and faced her and they fit quite comfortably together.

He was so close, so close to this woman that just said she would risk her life for his—again. She made him worth something. She made him significant. Guinevere made Harry significant.

"See, not too bad." She whispered.

"No, certainly not." Harry blinked slowly, his vision becoming hazy but he could not fall asleep, not now. Gingerly he brushed a pesky little strand of hair from her eyes and brushed his thumb across her cheek bone.

Guinevere placed her hand over his and held it.

"You look so tired, Harry." She said sadly.

"Nonsense, I think you're confusing tire with ease."

"Is that what you're feeling right now? Ease?" She smiled, as if she was feeling exactly the same.

"Yes, among other things." Harry waited for a moment and kissed her fingers again. Guinevere shifted until she laid just below Harry's chin. He rested said chin on her head, and wrapped his arm around her, to which Guinevere made a sound he had never heard from her before. It was a soft purr-like sound, a sound of affirmation and contentedness. Her forehead rested against his chest and she sighed tiredly.

"You should really get some rest, Harry…I don't want you losing anymore sleep over me." She whispered and Harry kissed the top on her head.

"Only if you do the same."

"Already half way there." She muttered, and Harry smirked. Within the minute he could hear her soft breaths as his hand rubbed gentle circles in her back. She had fallen asleep so quickly Harry wondered for a moment if he was actually in her dreams this entire time.

What nonsense, of course he was real. He was laying in bed with Guinevere, holding her as she slept. What utter happiness could he have conceived of anything other than reality—even dreams weren't this idealistic.

"I love you Guinevere." He said, only barely above a whisper. He knew she couldn't hear it, and that was why he said it. He did not yet have the courage to say it to her face, but he did. He loved her with a sweeping, all-encompassing adoration and fervor.

* * *

 **Surprise! I couldn't leave you guys hanging and no way on Earth I could kill Guinevere off. Yet, that is. Please let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter 17: The Snoop and the Suit

The next morning Guinevere woke slowly. Her body was stiff but she felt no pain. She felt an IV in her arm and assumed a nurse had dropped by for her pain meds. The arm around her waist tightened and she saw Harry, laying in the same position he had fallen asleep in. He must have instinctively tightened his grip at her movement—something she wasn't particularly mad about.

Guinevere cuddled closer to Harry and she felt her hands instinctively wrapping themselves around his tie—not in a malicious way but in a protective and "don't-ever-leave-my-side" type of way.

Slowly Guinevere closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

When Guinevere woke again she kept her eyes closed. Her pure exhaustion helped in that matter. She breathed in and out, the air in the room was cold, almost freezing. She stretched and felt around but she felt nothing. She opened her eyes then and noticed Harry was gone.

A sigh exited her lips but she was not sad. Harry had held her as she fell asleep and that was all she'd ever wanted it.

She suddenly coughed and grasped her side. She felt a little more pain now, but not a whole lot.

Guinevere sat up slowly and stretched her legs. She felt like she had been asleep for days by the way her joints cricked and cracked with movement.

Guinevere looked at the chair that Harry had sat in the night before and noticed a red robe and loafers sat beneath a note. She reached over and grabbed the note.

" _Thought these might be more comfortable for you. - Harry"_

Guinevere smiled as she shifted herself out of bed and gently rested her feet on the marble floor, still leaning on the bed for support. She picked up the robe and noticed a set of white pajamas with the Kingsman logo embroidered on it. She rolled her eyes but unfolded them anyway.

After undressing slowly and putting the pajamas on Guinevere almost sighed out in pleasure. The material was the softest thing she'd felt in a while.

Guinevere released the clip on her IV and pushed the stand to the side. Then she pulled the needle from her arm and threw it on the metal side tray. She immediately felt the effect and the pain slowly eased its way through her body, but she was okay with it. A little pain never hurt anyone.

She slipped on the robe and while it was a little big it was just as comfortable and just as warm as she wanted. Then she slipped the loafers on, that too bore the Kingsman insignia. For a moment Guinevere wondered how on Earth the Kingsman were able to stay so secretive all these years, their logo was on every fucking thing they made. She laughed to herself as she grabbed her crutch and made her way to the sink and brushed her teeth.

In the mirror Guinevere looked at herself and sighed. The toothbrush hung lazily in her mouth when she let go of it and leaned her elbow on the sink. A bit of tooth paste framed the edge of her mouth. The bright fluorescent light above the mirror illuminated features of her face that were still healing. Her lip and black eye was completely healed but she still had a cut on her temple that held three stitches that needed to be removed.

Slowly she plucked the metal stitches out of her skin. After she pulled each one out she tossed them into the sink with a clink. When they were all out she smiled. Much better.

Guinevere then finished brushing her teeth and washed her mouth out. She glanced around the room looking for something to drink other than water, there had to be something around here.

After several minutes of searching she failed to find anything so she decided to forage outside of the room.

She paused for a moment at the door, and looked at her crutch. She had been using it since she'd woken up earlier that week and she was afraid it was actually becoming the proverbial crutch of sorts. So she placed it against the wall adjacent to the door and stepped out.

As she walked down the hall she couldn't believe how empty this place was. There was one nurse on duty that she new of, but other than her not a soul. Not even a Kingsman in sight. Then Guinevere thought what a great opportunity to do what she did best.

Snoop.

Guinevere started by making her way out of the infirmary wing, there wasn't too much to see there. Then she ended up walking through a long corridor with an elevator at the end of it. When she stepped in she looked at her floor options. She decided to start on the basement floor and work her way up.

When the doors opened at the basement level she stepped through cautiously into a room filled with windows and computers. She limped up to the windows and saw that they overlooked a massive underground room of jets and planes and cars and all other sorts of heavy machinery.

"Sainte merde." She muttered, her eyes widened and she slipped her hands in the pockets of the robe. This place wasn't so bad, she thought. Suddenly she felt a presence in the room and turned to see an older man in a perfectly tailored gray suit and glasses enter through a tube in the back.

"Oh hello." He smiled, "You must be Miss Guinevere Grimaldi." He stepped forward and offered his hand to her.

Guinevere shook it cautiously but smirked, "King Arthur, I presume?"

Arthur laughed, "Just Arthur, if you don't mind." Guinevere smiled and replaced her hand in her pocket. "It's a pleasure to meet you—how are you feeling then?"

"Oh, just fine, thank you for asking."

"I'm glad I ran into you actually."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. I wanted to talk about what happened in France." Guinevere sucked in a breath, of course. But Arthur chuckled, "Oh don't worry, it's not my place reprimand you—I just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Guinevere asked, "For what?"

"For your sacrifice. You saved the life of one of our most valued agents and we are indebted to you."

"Well you did save mine in return, I think the debt is leveled." She smirked.

"All the same, anything you might find yourself needing while you're here, just ask." Arthur winked at her and turned to leave. As he was just out the door Guinevere spoke up.

"Hey Arthur?"

"Yes, Miss Grimaldi?"

"How about one of those bespoke suits?" Arthur smirked and nodded.

* * *

Harry walked down the hall he'd walked down everyday, and every day before this day had been a tiresome and pessimistic walk but today—he was happy. He was excited. He hated that he had to leave Guinevere early this morning but Arthur assigned him business in Wales that morning. Now, being mid-afternoon, he knocked on the door to Guinevere's room but he received no answer.

"Guinevere?" He called out and knocked again. Still no answer. Cautiously he opened the door and found the room empty and spotted her crutch leaning by the door. How odd. Harry stepped out again and walked the halls in pursuit of Guinevere but she was no where to be found. "Where did you run off to now?" He pondered to himself and ended up in Merlin's office.

Merlin sat at his desk typing away some nonsense. Harry slipped him the flash drive he secured in Wales and looked out the observation deck. He saw a few people down there but none bore the shape of the small French-woman.

"If you're looking for you-know-who she's back at the shop in London." Merlin said, his eyes never leaving his screens.

"At the shop? Why on earth is she there?"

"Not sure, she was with Arthur though." Harry narrowed his eyes, with Arthur? What on earth was she getting herself into now?

"Thank you, Merlin." Harry said and began to make his way back to London.

* * *

Harry walked into the Kingsman shop and nodded at the attendant. He noticed the door to Fitting Room 1 was closed so he poured himself a drink and waited at the couch at the front of the shop. After a few minutes he heard the door open behind him.

"I must say Miss Grimaldi, you had me at an odds with those round cuffs but, alas, you have proven me wrong." Arthur said to Guinevere as he helped her out of the fitting room. Harry stood and his breath stopped. There stood Guinevere in a Kingsman tailored suit.

"Ah, Galahad," Arthur said, "What do you think?" He gestured to Guinevere who smiled and struggled to do a little turn. It was a deep burgundy and brown mixed colored material, one he didn't even know they had, in an English cut. Round cuffs and a white semi-spread collar striped dress shirt. Notch lapels with tapered sides to fit her thin waist, single pleat pant and open laced Oxfords. The only thing missing was a tie.

"Um, yes—" Harry comically struggled with his words, "Very nice choice, Guinevere."

"Arthur you have a meeting in the dining room in 5 minutes." The attendant said.

"Oh right, best make my way over then. Oh, and ties are just over there Miss Grimaldi." Arthur gestured to the adjacent wall that housed a collection of multicolored ties and left up the stairs.

Harry stepped up to her, holding his elbow out to help her over to them. She leaned against him and Harry felt his pulse ignite beneath her touch. When they reached the ties she looked over them with deep concentration and all Harry could look at was her.

She was fucking beautiful, and in that suit, even more so. Fuck he could hardly contain himself. He had to do something about this soon.

Guinevere picked up two ties and held them up to her chest. One, a deep green with a faint diamond pattern, the other a solid maroon color.

"Which one?" She asked. And Harry pondered. Then he picked up the green one and lifted it to her face and smiled softly.

"This one, it compliments your eye color." Guinevere's lashes fluttered and she smiled shyly. She set the other down and attempted to drape the chosen one around her neck but struggled with the stiffness of her stitches. Harry took the tie and draped it around her neck, slipped it beneath her collar and began to tie it. When he finished and tightened it he stepped back and got a good look at her. God damn could she wear a suit.

"Well?" She adjusted her cuffs and straightened her blazer. Harry smiled and nodded slowly. Guinevere smiled back.

"Since you're out and about and donning a freshly tailored bespoke suit, would you do me the honor of joining me for an early dinner Guinevere?" Harry asked.

"I would love to Harry." He smiled happily and extended his elbow once more.


	18. Chapter 18: Je vous ai besoin

Content Warning for this Chapter: M for sexuality  
Enjoy!

* * *

Harry took Guinevere to the most expensive restaurant in London, a restaurant where Harry had a table reserved just for him every Friday night, just in case he wanted to stop by. He wanted to impress her, that much was obvious but he also just wanted to talk to her, to be around her. The last month was torture seeing her everyday and not being able to have a conversation with her. He had so many things to tell her.

Harry pulled the chair out for her and helped her into it. He felt bad she was hardly capable of moving around herself. But she was strong, she just needed time.

"This is a lovely place," she said, "Are you trying to impress me, Harry?"

"Yes I am." He said and smiled. Guinevere took a look at the wine list and chuckled. Harry inquired curiously, "Is the wine list not to your standards?"

"No," she laughed, "It's just—'La Siroque.'" She couldn't keep herself from giggling. "That's my wine."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Your wine?"

Guinevere glanced at the wine list again and still smiled. "I guess the secret's out—when I am not working for Monaco Secret Service I have a Chateau in Bonnieux, Provence where I started a vineyard about three years ago."

"Really? You don't actually live in Monaco?" Guinevere shook her head and Harry pondered what he had told her, on one hand it seemed completely out of character for Guinevere—but on the other hand, it seemed perfect. Idyllic. "Then we must order a bottle." He made a note to ask her why she didn't live in Monaco, but definitely a conversation for another time.

Guinevere smiled sweetly at him as he ordered with the waiter.

"You'll have to visit it sometime." She said, referring to Provence, "It functions at a much different pace than London."

"Will you be returning soon then? To Provence?"

"Yes. As much as I love the Kingsman and their hospitality I miss my home."

"I understand that completely. And please, don't stay in London on my account. Provence seems like the perfect place to heal."

Harry would be sad when she left, but he never expected her to stay. He just enjoyed her presence, then and there. And that was all he needed.

They had a great dinner together, and Guinevere's wine was actually quite good, if he could have any say so.

After the bottle split between the two of them Harry felt that soft buzz of alcohol, and when Guinevere held his hand across the table he felt he had drank an entire other bottle himself. A bottle of Guinevere.

As they left the restaurant they walked slowly down the sidewalk, the crisp night air made for a delightful evening setting. Suddenly though Harry felt a raindrop on his head and sighed.

"The one time I forget my umbrella." He said and Guinevere chuckled.

"That's alright, we can handle a bit of rain." And almost as if on queue the rain began to beat down even heavier. Harry quickly lifted his coat and held it over their soaking heads and paused their pace in the sidewalk. "Of course it's raining even harder now." Guinevere laughed and Harry smirked. The soft dusk, the rain, Guinevere in that suit, it was perfect.

Guinevere leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and Harry pulled her in by the waist and let the coat sit on their heads. This was it—he was going to do it. But before he could Guinevere pulled his lips to hers and kissed him herself. Harry pulled her tighter to his chest and kissed her fully, and unapologetically. Her lips were even softer than he could have imagined and she tasted like wine and peppermint.

They parted lips for a moment and stared at each other, dazed from the high of their kiss. Guinevere kissed him again, softly and just for a second. The rain began to pour and despite Harry's coat they were still both getting soaked.

Harry quickly hailed a cab and helped Guinevere in.

"Stanhope Mews South, Gloucester road, please." He told the cabbie and barely had a second left to breathe before Guinevere pulled his lips to hers again in a soft and light kiss. Harry pulled back and smiled. Perfection could even attempt to compare.

* * *

They arrived at Harry's house in a very timely manner. And the second his door shut Guinevere pushed him against it and kissed him with all her strength, which wasn't much given her current condition but Harry conceded either way.

"Welcome to my home." Harry said in between kisses and breaths. "This is the foyer."

"Mmhmm." Guinevere mumbled as Harry pushed her into the dining room, and against the table.

"This is the dining room."

"Mmm, very nice." Harry grabbed her hips and sat her on the table and wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her, careful not to put too much pressure on her stitches and pushed her in to the wall of the kitchen.

"Kitchen." Guinevere chuckled and kissed his neck and Harry felt chills fill him from head to toe. He lifted her again and moved toward the stairs but Guinevere began to kiss him again, sliding her tongue into his mouth and he pushed her this time against the railing of the stairs. "The lavatory to your left."

"Good to know." She kissed him again and Harry pulled her waist into him and groaned out. He had to get to the bedroom at once. So quickly he walked up the stairs, holding her still with impressive ease and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

Harry kicked open the door and laid her down on the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her neck and ear, his hands wandering where ever they found themselves. Guinevere quickly began to undo his tie.

"And this is bedroom."

"Mmhmm." She said quickly and threw his tie across the room. Harry quickly removed his coat and blazer and threw them onto the chair by the window. Quickly he undid her tie and treated it to the same abuse. He helped her out of her blazer and slowly unbuttoned her shirt until he reached the end. Harry felt the bandage that wrapped around her entire waist, a soft gauze beneath an elastic wrap. Harry's hands framed her sides and moved south as his kissed her skin from her neck down between her breasts and stomach to the bandage.

The breath she exerted was airy and weighted. Her hands ran through his hair and Harry didn't want to feel anything less than the affection she was exerting. She was in his hands pure ecstasy and he was in her hands, pure bliss.

Guinevere sighed out and looked at the ceiling, then she looked at him with those big blue eyes and bated breath.

"Harry…" He move upwards and kissed her then. His name on her lips was far too much. She quieted and smiled below him. "Harry, je…"

But she kissed him again, interrupting herself.

"Fuck Harry, je'taime tellement. Je vous ai besoin." Guinevere spoke in French, her mind unable to focus on anything but her natural instincts. Luckily Harry was fluent in French and responded:

"Je t'aime aussi." And he kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her. Kissing her lips in such away he felt he'd never kissed a woman like before. He loved her, with everything inside of him.

And she loved him.

* * *

It was 2 am and it was still storming. Harry's balcony doors were ajar and the sounds of the rain filtered through the room. Guinevere laid on her side facing them as Harry ran his fingertip up and down her spine. She shivered under his touch, which satisfied Harry to no end. He kissed her shoulders and rested his head in the nook of her neck.

Her skin was soft, but her back was littered with scars. Much like his own. Harry wanted to ask her where each of them came from but at the same time he never wanted to imagine her in pain ever again. Only pleasure.

"Guinevere…" Harry muttered into her neck and wrapped his arm around her waist, careful not to disturb her bandage.

"Yes, Harry?" She muttered, her eyes closed.

"Nothing, I just wanted to say your name."

"Mmmmm…say it again."

Harry smiled and kissed her neck and the soft spot between her shoulders.

"Guinevere…Guinevere…Guinevere." Harry heard her groan from the base of her throat and he couldn't imagine another sound that was more sensual. Guinevere slowly turned and faced him, pulling the sheet up to cover herself, much to Harry's displeasure. She kissed him slowly, but with strength and purpose. Her hand cupped his jaw and she moaned into his mouth.

Fuck Harry could live here, in this position for the rest of his life.

"Harry do you want to know the first thing I noticed about you?" She asked.

"Yes." He answered simply.

"How handsome you were. I was so taken by you I couldn't think of anything else for weeks after." Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Really? Weeks?"

"Really. I don't think I'd ever seen a man more suited for formal wear than you." Harry smirked.

"Would you like to know the first thing I noticed about you?" He asked, Guinevere smiled warmly and nodded, Harry's hand raised to her face and rubbed her cheekbone with his thumb, "Your eyes…dark blue with a single green fleck of color in the left. Dark and…dangerous eyes."

Guinevere chuckled and moved closer to him, looking him in the eyes.

"And your eyes, big and brown and cozy—I just want to fall asleep in them." Harry smiled and kissed her again. Guinevere maneuvered into the same position she held last night; against his chest, just beneath his chin. "I have…strong feelings for you Harry." She mumbled into his chest and kissed his collarbone.

Harry kissed her forehead, "And I have strong feelings for you as well, Guinevere."

"You know, of the love variety." She mumbled, closing her eyes.

Harry held her for several minutes as she drifted off to sleep, and thought about the moment he knew he was in love with her. It was when they were at that first safe house just outside of Paris. She was playing the piano and Harry fell in love with the sound of her fingers on those keys. And when he played beside her for just a moment, in the midsts of their conflict with Rene Teshigahara, he felt calm and utterly smitten.

That was one thing he absolutely loved about her, that even in moments of high suspense she still managed to make everything seem utterly normal and calm. And in the end that helped him all the more. Harry was a good spy but Guinevere was a great spy and he had so much to learn from her.

And he absolutely couldn't wait.


	19. Chapter 19: A Kingsman

The next morning Harry woke up nearly with the sun. He was well rested and happy. Guinevere slept quietly next to him, her whole body smothered in sheets and the comforter. Harry held her for a few moments before kissing her on the forehead and getting up.

He dressed himself in his pajamas and slipped his robe on over. At the door, just as he was leaving the room he took another brief look at Guinevere, sleeping soundly. He hoped she was getting a restful sleep.

In the kitchen Harry brewed himself some tea but paused for a minute. He had no idea what tea Guinevere liked. How could he have been so daft? To be fair, he'd never actually seen her drink tea, only coffee.

That's right, Guinevere was a coffee girl.

Harry brewed a pot of coffee for Guinevere and made his way back up stairs with a full mug in his hand. She was still asleep when he entered the bedroom so he set the mug on the night stand by her head.

He took a quick look around the room and sighed. What a mess. What a beautiful mess but a mess nonetheless. Quickly he picked his discarded suit and hung it up, then he gathered her suit. But when he picked her blazer up from the floor an object fell from the pocket. It was a prescription pill bottle. Most likely for her pain. Harry sat the bottle on the nightstand next to the coffee and finished hanging up the rest of her suit in his closet. To save it from wrinkles, he told himself. But he quite liked the idea of her clothes hanging up next to his.

Harry made his way back to the kitchen and decided to start preparing breakfast. He began with eggs and bacon and tomatoes, classic.

As he was finishing with the bacon and reaching for the sourdough loaf he felt two arms wrap around his waist. Guinevere nearly scared the living daylights out of him, he hadn't heard her come down the stairs. But that's what he got for being involved with another spy. Silent footsteps.

Harry leaned back into her arms and sighed.

"Thank you for the coffee," she said and set the mug on the counter. Harry grabbed the pot of coffee and poured her another cup.

He leaned down and kissed her briefly before returning to the stove, taking a brief glance at her legs which she had chosen to keep uncovered this morning.

"Sit, I'm almost finished with breakfast." Guinevere grabbed her mug and smiled but sat at the table either way.

Harry toasted the bread and finished their plates in a very timely manner. He set Guinevere's plate in front of her and he sat himself next to her.

"This looks delicious Harry." She said quietly and bit into her bacon. "Mmm."

There was a silence between them that they both enjoyed. Just looking at each other every now and then in between eating. They both felt it unimportant to talk about what had happened the night before as they had both been there.

Suddenly Harry's glasses tinged with a ring and he slipped them on.

 _"Harry?"_ He heard Merlin ask.

"Good morning Merlin." Guinevere sat up straight suddenly and Harry could tell she was listening.

 _"Morning, Harry. I was wondering if you had seen Guinevere around, she wasn't in her room yesterday and missed her physical therapy session."_

Harry took a sip of tea, should he tell Merlin about Guinevere? He'd hate to hide anything from his dear friend.

"Not to worry, Merlin, Guinevere's with me. Though I'm afraid I was unaware of the physical therapy session so I apologize."

"Oh don't worry I received plenty of physical therapy last night." Guinevere muttered loud enough for Harry to hear and sputter the gulp of tea he'd just taken. Guinevere in turn chuckled and continued to eat her breakfast.

 _"Can you make sure she returns to head quarters for her session this evening?"_

"Yes I'll make sure she's there." Harry said, glaring at Guinevere in a playful manner.

 _"Fantastic. Thanks."_

"Of course." Harry took his glasses off and gave Guinevere a look of tire. Guinevere suddenly stood and slipped her leg over Harry's lap and straddled him. "You are intolerable…and beautiful…"

She kissed his neck and made him sigh out. "Which is it, Mr. Hart?"

Harry ran his hands through her hair and smiled, "Both."

* * *

Guinevere and Harry drove to the shop in a Kingsman ordered taxi. Guinevere chuckled when she got in and saw the wood panelling, cigars, brandy, and the like. But Harry knew she loved it all the same.

In the cab Harry and Guinevere sat exactly seven inches from each other. They had a secret and they were going to keep it, for now. No need shouting it from the rooftops, even though Harry wanted to, with all his strength we wanted to. But they both agreed to keep quiet for now.

When they arrived at the shop Harry helped Guinevere out of the cab and up the steps to the door and let go of her arm. Harry led her to the back and up the stairs to the dining room. But when they walked in they spotted Arthur and another man Harry had never seen before. A tall, well dressed man in a full black suit and slicked back black hair. The man stood as they entered.

"Jacques?" Guinevere said, stepping up. They shook hands and Guinevere stood aside, "Harry this is Jacques Renoir, head of Monaco Secret Service. Jacques this is Harry Hart."

They shook hands, "Pleasure," Harry said and Jacques only nodded.

"Madame Grimaldi, un mot?" Jacques said to Guinevere and she nodded, confusion laced through her expression. She glanced at Harry and he could have sworn he saw a brief look of alarm in her eyes.

They left the room to talk in the hallway and Harry took a seat next to Arthur.

"Brandy?" He asked. Harry looked at him for a moment, without having heard him. "Galahad, drink?"

"Oh, yes." Harry said and adjusted himself in his seat and glanced at the door.

"Odd man, that Jacques Renoir, though how would I know? All Frenchmen seem the same to me." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. There Arthur goes again, showing his money like old age.

 _"What?"_ Harry heard Guinevere say from the hallway, then hushed French from Jacques.

Harry and Arthur sat in silence for another minute before the doors opened again by Jacques who walked in and shook Arthur's hand and then Harry's.

"'Till next time, Renoir." Arthur said and he nodded. Harry looked at the door and saw Guinevere standing with her back to the room, still in the hallway. Jacques walked briskly past her and she still stood, unmoved.

After another moment she turned around and stepped into the room slowly. There was a distant and vaguely threatening look on her brow. She breathed slowly and stared at the floor.

"Excuse me." She muttered and turned swiftly down the hall. Harry began to stand when Arthur's hand brought him down. Harry saw Arthur shake his head.

"Do you know what that was about?" Harry asked.

"Yes I do." Arthur said, taking a drink, "Why do you care?"

Harry paused for a minute and didn't have answer for him, smug bastard. Harry gave him a look of disappointment and left the room.

He found Guinevere quickly, sitting on the steps outside of the shop with her head in her hands. Slowly he stepped down and sat next to her, forgetting the seven inches and brushed her shoulder with his. She sighed loudly and looked up ahead.

"I was just fired." She said.

"You're fucking kidding me." She shook her head.

"Well technically I just _resigned._ " She rolled her eyes and sighed again.

"And why were you forced to resign?" Harry asked.

"Why do you think?" She said with antipathy, "I am a 'loose cannon' for Monaco. They don't trust me to follow orders anymore. And being a Grimaldi was already a risk." Harry sighed and brushed his knuckles against her knee.

"I'm sorry Guinevere, I feel like this is all my fault."

"No." She said and turned to him, "You didn't force me to disobey orders. The only mistake I made was aligning myself with a corrupt secret service in the first place. It's fine, I promise Harry."

He nodded and leaned closer to her. "On the bright side you'll have a lot more free time."

Guinevere laughed and leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder. They watched the cars drive by, a few people strolling along for several minutes. Guinevere had closed her eyes and held onto her stomach in mild pain, she breathed out heavily. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

"Guinevere?"

"Hmm?" She hummed, eyes still closed.

"I know I can't promise anything as this was just an idea spawned thirty seconds ago and I'll have to have a talk with Arthur—"

"Harry what is it?" She interrupted him, still not bothering to open her eyes.

"Would you be interested in becoming a Kingsman?"


	20. Chapter 20: Letters

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late update but here's a long one for you! I just saw The Golden Circle and I've got lots of ideas! Definitely not as good as the first but still FUCKIN SPECTACULAR AY! I'd love to know what all you guys thought, for those that have seen it! Leave a review and let me know!**

 **After this chapter things will be speeding up to the events of The Secret Service and into The Golden Circle, hopefully!**

 **I hope you enjoy and always, let me know what you think!**

* * *

That evening Guinevere changed into her sweat pants and a long sleeve shirt. Her side was aching more than usual so she grabbed her crutch from the side of the bed and used it to help her walk to the circular room down the hall she had been going to for physical therapy the past week.

She spotted Merlin with his clipboard standing in front of the door.

"Good evening Guinevere, nice to see you." She smirked at him but didn't respond. "Alright, in you go."

Merlin held the door open for her and she limped through. Guinevere placed her crutch off the side and grabbed a yoga mat to start her exercises. And the exercises were easy for her. Too easy. She needed to be challenged more, pushed further so she could get back on track with how she used to be.

After about thirty minutes Guinevere sat up and sighed. Merlin wrote away in his clipboard sitting on a bench against the wall.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?" He kept his head down but when she didn't respond he looked up. "What is it Guinevere?"

She sighed again and rubbed her face.

"Do you like what you do?" Merlin set his clipboard down on the bench next to him.

"Yes I do. Without me everyone would be lost." He said with much assurance, making Guinevere smirk. "Why do you ask?"

Guinevere stood and began to roll the yoga mat up.

"Harry, um-Harry asked me if I would be interested in becoming a Kingsman since I won't be working for Monaco any longer."

"Huh." Merlin said with a slight smirk, letting what she just said sink in. "Are you considering?"

"I said I would think about it. I'm just not sure."

"Well I can tell you it's the best job I've ever had."

Guinevere smirked, "As compared to?"

"A bakery in Edinburgh when I was sixteen." Guinevere laughed and set the mat next to the others. "If I means anything I think you would make a fine Kingsman agent."

She smiled, "Thank you Merlin. Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time tomorrow." Guinevere turned to leave, "And Guinevere, leave the crutch."

She nodded and winked at him. When she got back to her room she pulled her suitcase from the closet and dressed in something a little nicer than sweatpants. Long sleeve button down and high waist slacks, with her new oxfords.

She packed up everything she had thrown about her room and packed it away. When she was finished she stepped out of the room and made her way to the basement.

Guinevere walked out the back of the building and spotted a Mercedes parked outside, keys in the seat. She threw her bag in the back and slipped into the drivers seat.

* * *

Harry sat at his desk in his study on his laptop. He was still pondering the response he got from Guinevere when he asked if she wanted to be a Kingsman.

He knew she wouldn't have agreed right away but her response didn't seem all that interested.

"I'll have to think about it." She had said. Harry knew she would fit right in with the Kingsman crew, she was professional, elegant, well-skilled, and the Kingsman could use a feminine presence like hers.

All he had to do was convince Arthur to consider a woman. In all the years Kingsman have been an agency there had been 4 women to try out for a position, but none had gotten through, much to the digression of Arthur.

Suddenly Harry heard a click downstairs. He quietly shut his laptop grabbed his gun from his shoulder holster and stepped to the entrance of his study. He listened again and heard more shuffling around downstairs.

Cautiously he stepped down the steps but paused when he heard his record player start up and Frank Sinatra echoed through his home. Harry sighed and put his gun back in his holster. He should have known.

He walked down and found Guinevere in front of the record player looking through a stack of records she had in her arms, swaying with the music.

"I didn't realize Frank Sinatra had so many albums." She chuckled to herself and Harry smiled. He stepped up to her and grabbed the records from her arms. Then he grabbed her head and kissed her softly-tenderly.

"I almost shot you, darling." Guinevere smiled as Harry took her hand and waist and began dancing with her.

"What's one more bullet?" She said. Harry held her closer and sighed. He never wanted her to be in any way of danger again. But at the same time he blindly suggested she become a Kingsman. But he said it because that was who she was. She looked happiest when being active. But then again, she looked pretty happy right now too.

"Have you thought more about what I asked?" Harry asked cautiously. Silently hoping.

"Yes I have." She said simply, hugging her arms around his waist.

"And?"

Guinevere leaned back and sighed. That did not bode well.

"I think I need some time." Guinevere pulled away from Harry and slowly ushered herself into a chair. "I'm still healing and I think I...I just need a break before I get back into the game, you know?"

"That's not a 'no.'" Harry said hopefully.

"Not exactly a 'yes' either darling." She sighed and smiled weakly. "I think I need to go home."

Harry looked at her and sighed. He knew she would leave. And he had to be okay with that. They had only really been intimate for a short while so it wasn't a life altering statement.

"Will you come with me?" She asked and Harry looked at her again.

"Guinevere I can't leave England." She stood slowly and held his hands. "My commitment to the Kingsman is-"

Guinevere kissed him slowly and softly.

"I know Harry. I should not have even asked, that wasn't fair of me." Harry kissed her again and sighed, grasping her hips desperately.

"Guinevere if I could drop every responsibility and uproot my very stabilized life here in London I would, for you."

Guinevere smiled sadly and ran her hands through his hair.

"But you won't." She said, her voice equally melancholic.

"I can't, Guinevere." Harry replied and buried his head into her neck and hair, smelling her soft scent. Harry gently kissed her neck where he knew she loved. Guinevere purred quietly and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

* * *

When Harry woke up the next morning the bed beside him was empty and cold. He sat up slowly, stretching out the muscles stiff from sleep and spotted a note on the pillow.

He picked it up and read.

 _'Harry,_

 _I'm sorry I had to leave this way but it was for the best, I'm not very good at in-person farewells. All the same, I do hope to see you again, soon or not soon. Downstairs I left a bottle of my wine, and attached to it is my address. You can write to me if you like, or you can visit me-if you like._

 _I wish you the very best on your next mission and the hundreds after that._

 _Be safe, I love you._

 _Yours,_

 _Guinevere'_

Harry sighed and placed the note on his nightstand. He wished he could have convinced her to stay. But he understood why she left, he just wish he had been enough for her.

That thought alone killed him. Was he not enough for her? No, certainly not, she never said that. But she needed to be home, he understood that well enough. He would have been the same way. If stuck in France he would have wanted nothing more than to return to England, to his home.

But now, picturing himself in her shoes as they were, he could potentially see himself leaving England, his home, his butterflies, the Kingsman…for her. But what would he do instead, in France? Help her run the vineyard? Work for the French Military, oh that thought alone nearly made him gag. No, no French Military.

For now, he would be content in writing her and maybe when his life cooperates he'll find the courage to visit her.

* * *

One month later.

 _Guinevere,_

 _I hope you are doing well down there in wine country. Things here have been uneventful and downright tedious without you. I hope your wounds have healed by now, I can picture you out in your orchards testing your vines as I write this. Just last week I pulled out the Frank Sinatra album we listened to on your last night here and I played it over and over—it still makes me think of you. And naturally I finally opened that bottle of pinot noir you left me yesterday and shared it over a nice dinner with James, he sends his highest compliments to you for the smokiest glass of red he's ever had. I'd say that's a positive review._

 _Please do write me back at your earliest convenience, I would love to hear back from you. And I've also sent you a package, I hope it's reached you safely and undamaged._

 _Yours,_

 _Harry_

* * *

One week later.

 _Harry,_

 _I received your package just a few days after your letter and I must say my mind reeled with anticipation in wait for it. When it arrived I was overjoyed. Thank you so much for the beautiful specimen, I have never before seen a Lorquin Admiral before—and its absolutely gorgeous. It is hanging up in my bedroom by my window so I can see it every morning when I wake up._

 _My wounds have healed well, still some scars but I can walk and run freely without worry or pain. My groundskeeper's son, Marcel who is about 7 now, is very happy I'm able to play with him again. And honestly I am too._

 _I am over-joyed James enjoyed my wine, if you send me his address I'll send him a case if he likes._

 _Pretty soon I will be off on a trip to Japan for business, if you don't hear from me for a while—that's why. I hope everything is going well on your part at the tailors. Hopefully Arthur isn't running you too ragged. Take care of yourself darling._

 _Yours,_

 _Guinevere_

 _PS I miss drinking brandy with you._

* * *

One month later.

 _G,_

 _Please forgive me for my belated responses, business in Berlin. Will contact soon._

 _H_

* * *

One week later.

 _Harry,_

 _I hope everything is going well, especially with Berlin. I've heard about some of the stuff happening there._

 _My business in Japan was cut short so I am back home in Provence. My father visited me today with news of my sister, Caroline's pregnancy. Though everything is still hush-hush for now, and my brother Albert met a wonderful young woman named Charlene. Things are looking up for the ol' Grimaldi's for the first time in a while._

 _I wish I could say the same for myself. I miss you immensely. I hope to see you soon, though I understand if you cannot due to your busy schedule._

 _Be safe and I'll talk to you soon._

 _Love,_

 _Guinevere_

* * *

One week later.

 _Harry,_

 _I haven't heard from you lately. I hope everything is alright. Talk to you soon._

 _Yours,_

 _Guinevere_

* * *

One month later.

Guinevere sat outside at her patio table watching Marcel run around wild through her chateau and around the back yard with three little dogs in tow. She sat with Harry's last correspondence in her hands, tapping it nervously on the table. She took a sip of wine and sighed. It was early in the morning, about 8 am but she could hardly sleep. Not until she received her response from Harry that he was okay.

She had tried reaching out to Merlin but his response was a short: "Still on mission."

Ludivine, the grounds keeper's wife—who often worked as a house keeper for Guinevere—sat a tray of eggs and bacon and coffee on the table. Guinevere smiled sadly.

"Thank you Ludivine, sometimes I think you're an angel—you know exactly what I need." Ludivine pinched her cheek and kissed her forehead.

"You look too pale and too sad for your age. Eat, at least you'll get some color back in those cheeks." Ludivine left with a skip in her step as she yelled at Marcel to come into the house.

Guinevere took a massive gulp of her coffee and sighed as it warmed her from the inside.

Thirty minutes later she was finished with her coffee and breakfast and reading a book in her lap, lounging on the grass next to the pool. A cool breeze fluttered the pages as she drifted in and out of mild unconsciousness.

"Guinevere!" Yelled Marcel, holding one of the puppies in his hands as he ran up her. "Mama wanted me to tell you there's a man here to see you."

She sat up gently and checked her watch, "That's probably the inspector—he's definitely early. Tell him I'll be up shortly." Guinevere stood and slipped the book under her arm. Marcel ran off back into the house, the puppy struggling to keep up behind.

Guinevere made her way back into the house and noticed a tall man in a suit with his back to her, standing in the doorway at the front of the house talking with Ludivine.

"Guinevere!" Ludivine said smiling and the man turned around to face her.

She paused her steps and dropped the book.

"Harry?"

Harry, in all his ridiculous glory, smirked and stepped toward her, slipping his glasses off and placing them safely in his breast pocket.

"Hello Guinevere." Her breath halted in her throat. Was it really him? Or was she still asleep, dreaming next to the pool? Ludivine excused herself into the kitchen.

"How was Berlin?" She asked.

"A close one." Harry said with a weighted but gratified air.

"And are you here for business or pleasure, Mr. Hart?" She asked.

"Pleasure, actually. I took some…time off."

Guinevere tilted her head, "Like a vacation?"

"Yes." Harry nodded his head, smirking.

"And when was the last time you took a vacation, Mr. Hart?"

"I've never taken a vacation in my life." He said earnestly and Guinevere suddenly felt all restraint leave her. She ran to him and fell into his arms.


End file.
